Ophelia
by Smurfledoodles
Summary: A song fic, After an accident has left Rogue in a coma the mansion is frantic. The professor is gone, so what can they do? Is she going crazy? Is Remy? How will she get out and back to the real world? Does she even want to? R&R!
1. Prologue

This is a song fic, the song Ophelia is by Natalie Merchant and is an awesome low mellow tune, I highly recommend it.

Disclaimer- As much as I'd love to claim the genius behind X-men and X-men evolution…in order to do so it would require me to admit to the world that time travel is possible and so, I shall abstain.

Walking slowly down the prestigious halls of Xavier's School for the Gifted was a woman child, with a slightly preoccupied air about her. Small, almost unnoticeable ear buds were tucked away in her ears, half hidden by the heavy curtain of her deep auburn hair. Bobbing her head along with an unheard tune, she unconsciously tucked a strand of shock white hair behind her ear as she continued to saunter down the hallway, as if she had, nay, _deserved_ the right to own the walkway. She loved this tranquility; just her, her music and the silence of a normally bustling mansion. Sometimes she wished that it would always be this quiet…and then Kurt or Bobby would make her hid a smile at their antics.

As suddenly as her iPod changed songs, she felt something…someone near her. Stopping, she unhooked her headphones and wrapped them around her neck. Cocking out one hip and placing a hand on it she glanced around her before calling out, "Alraht, who's therah?"

A chuckle that reminded her vaguely of bourbon and jazz wafted from one of the doorways to her right. Stepping into the light, a satisfied smirk glazing his thin lips, a tall and rangy man with a hair do that screamed, 'Yes, I woke up looking this good,' stood before her and swept her a deep bow, but always kept his sunglass covered eyes on her face. Or at least she assumed he was looking at her face, for all she knew he could be giving her the once over of a lifetime.

"Mornin' chère."

Rolling her eyes she looked for a way around him, for he was blocking the doorway and she was going to be late for breakfast, "Mornin' Swamp Rat, Ah have tah say, ah'm surprised thaht yah ain't already up and at 'em before the rest of the block heads."

He merely smiled at her sweetly, "Aw Roguey, what's tah say Remy weren't down there early just waitin' tah save yah a spot next tah him?" Remy'd pushed enough of Rogue's buttons in the past to know that he was in hot water, but what was the point of living a long and fruitful mutant life if there wasn't a bit of spice added to it every so often? And just looking at the growing blush that steadily traveled up Rogue's face was enough to add spice to anyone's morning.

'That's it…' Rogue turned to him, breakfast forgotten momentarily, "Listen here, you worthless piece of swamp trash, if you don't want the last thing anyone said about was 'Boy, that Gambit sure had a lot of meat on his bones,' then ah'd suggest you shut up and pronto. Otherwise, the gators'll be havin' a pretty damn good meal soon enough." Even though she was madder than a wet hen, as his Tante used to say, Remy couldn't help but notice that Rogue was the prettiest when she was pissed off at him. It was the only thing that made her emerald eyes glimmer, and some color flood her sun deprived cheeks. He opened his mouth to retort when he heard the oddest sound coming from Rogue, it was like Wolverine when he hadn't had his morning ration of coffee and artery clogging bacon and eggs piled high with enough hashbrowns to float a small armada. Fighting back a smile, the only notice he gave away was that his left eyebrow raised enough that Rogue could tell he was giving her an incredulous look behind those aviators of his.

"What? Ah was on mah way to breakfast when ah was so boldly interrupted." She crossed her arms and glared at him, "Now then, are yah gonna move or am ah gonna have to move yah mahself?" to prove her point, Rogue began tapped the toe of her heavy, steel toed combat boots; her own eyebrow raised in expectation, though the effect was lost behind the huge amount of mascara and eyeshadow that she wore. But Remy wasn't about to tell her that she wasn't nearly as scary as she thought with all that junk on. He gave a mental snort, 'Huh, scary…righ' and the next thing Remy knows Roguey and Bozo are announcin' their engagement." The temporary mental image of their children was enough to make Remy shift backwards and make another sweeping bow, his arm outstretched towards the dining hall. "Après vous, mademoiselle."

Muttering harshly under her breath, Rogue forced herself to think of her poor food and caffeine deprived stomach as she stomped her way along the hall and down the stairs towards the enormous industrial sized kitchen. Whistling a jaunty tune, Remy kept pace with her on her trek in order to, as he claimed to himself, keep her company in case she was waylaid again. Waylaid…right, Remy'd noticed the looks some of the younger male recruits had been giving his chère lately.

Down in the kitchen, Rogue and Remy both stood wordlessly in the doorway as they gazed upon the chaos. Kitty was phasing doughnuts away from Kurt, who was in turn 'porting away every time he saw her get close. Bobby and Jubilee had devilish smirks on their faces as they both watched Amara and Roberto carefully. Who knew what they had done to the latin pair. Beast was trying to cook a pan full of eggs with Jamies bouncing here and there and everywhere crying at the top of their little boy voices, "I wanna help! Mr. Hank! Oh, Mr. Hank, can I help?" Sam Guthrie, aka Cannonball, was trying to use his powers to smash the ice in the mold into more manageable pieces; when Rogue noticed this she snorted, talk about overkill.

Staring into the mishmash of mutant chaos, Rogue debated her chances of getting out of there before Logan found her. She'd rather go out to breakfast with Gambit than try and wrestle away some food from Kurt and Bobby, the human vacuums. A glance at Gambit showed that he was thinking along the same lines. But before they could slip back through the doorway, Scott, Jean and Logan all showed up at once. 'Oh, yippee' was Rogue's thought, 'Just what ah needed, Captain Boy Scout and the Perfect Princess this early in the morning. Aw hell, ah'd rahther go through a few Danger Room sessions before this!' Logan looked between her and Gambit for a second, his eyes narrowed.

"Stripes, Gumbo, Half-Pint and Elf, session after breakfast. Got it?" Stunned, Rogue looked at Gambit and mouthed,' What did you DO?' At his surprised shrug she turned back to Logan. She didn't mean she had actually _wanted_ a stupid Danger Room session! It was just an expression!

"But Logan, why? We had one last naght!" She stalked into the kitchen after him as he made his way to the coffee machine. 'Well, at least he parts the sea better than Moses.' The entire kitchen had finally settled down with Logan there; not that they didn't all love Hank but he was a soft touch. And you know kids, they can ferret out a weakness in an adult at fifty paces. And with the professor and storm gone for a week, it was up to Beast and Wolverine to care for all the mini mutants.

Glancing around the kitchen, Rogue noticed that everyone save Kitty, Kurt and Gambit were oddly preoccupied with their food. Breakfast, it was the perfect place to eavesdrop. At the coffee maker Logan took his sweet time, which was odd because he drank it high octane and straight, none of that sissy stuff like sugar and creamer. Finally he turned around and face his surrogate daughter.

"I'll tell you why Stripes, 'cause during last night's session you weren't paying attention and were sloppy, that last roundhouse wouldn' have hit a barn. Kurt was too busy practicing his showing off techniques for the Half-Pint, who was trying to hide away in a corner so that she could use her phone and call some boy. And Gumbo here, well…let's just say I'm not satisfied and leave it at that" he grinned and took a long sip of his coffee before turning her around and giving her a gentle, well for Logan anyways, shove towards the table. "Eat," he gave a low chuckle, "you're gonna need it." And with that he made his way past the hyper active Jamies towards the basement to prepare the Danger Room. Growling softly, Rogue roughly pulled a plate with a scoop of eggs and a strip of bacon towards her. Plopping down on the bench along the side of the table, she picked up her fork and just began to move the eggs around.

"Chère, Wolvie be right ya know, ya might wanna t'ink about eatin sometin'." At his voice Rogue just stopped moving the eggs gently around her plate and started stabbing them. Great, her stalker was now her nutritionist. "Ya too skinny as it is." Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, Rogue watched him gulp down a heaping forkful of eggs with gusto. It was the piece of egg jiggling out of the side of his mouth that finally killed Rogue's appetite. Good ol' down home Southern cookin' this weren't. Shoving her plate towards Guthrie, third runner up in the human vacuum race, Rogue stood up and walked over to the coffee machine. Who needed milky scrambled eggs when there was such a thing as coffee in the world?

As she walked out of the kitchen, Rogue again noticed that her shadow had grown rather large. "Gambit, aren't ya supposed tah be stuffin' your face with food about now?" She didn't even turn around, but took a gulp of her blistering hot java and continued walking. It was early still; she had time to get down to the basement, change and maybe even do an easy work out before the nightmare run with Logan's program. And since none of the new recruits were joining them this morning, Rogue knew that he wouldn't go as easy on them.

"Why'd you t'ink that Remy did someting to ol' Wolvie?" By this time Rogue had reached the elevator hidden away the led to the subbasement. Sighing, she turned around; if he had followed her all this way and had actually asked a question then it sounded like she was going to have an unwanted gust along for the ride down. "'Cause when Wolvie, ah mean _Logan_," she fought desperately to fight the small smile that was threatening to escape as she noticed his smirk; he'd noticed the slipup also, '_Damn Cajun..._,' "is tryin' to get back at someone, then it's usually sessions all around. And since you're new, ah figured thaht ya must have done somethin' tah piss him off. Lahke get into his alcohol stash?" To his credit, Gambit didn't make a telltale move.

"Ya know about that?" Rogue shrugged, sure she did. Where else was she supposed to go when Wolverine's psyche reared its adamantium laced head and demanded libations. At least it was better than raiding his stash of Cubans. "Sure, ah'm just surprised that ya know about it." Now that infamous grin appeared, "Yeah well, Remy knows lots of t'ings 'round here."

Elevator door finally open, Rogue stumbled into it,' real smooth there Rogue.' That's what she gets for leaning on the doors when they open. Recovering slightly, she glanced at Remy to see if he had noticed but couldn't tell where he was looking, 'Those damn sunglasses, why does he hafta wear them inside?' Come to think of it, Rogue couldn't even say what color his eyes were. They were a mansion mystery, half the girls had tried various schemes to force them off of his face. Jubilee claimed that they were a dazzling blue, while Kitty and Amara stated wholeheartedly that they had to be a velvety brown. Poor lil Rahne was too shy to get into the betting pool and Miss Jean Grey was too full of herself, she thought it was beneath her dignity to bet on the newest recruit. Course that didn't stop her from making sure that he was always on her team, or sitting anywhere near her for that matter. Rogue stifled a giggle, poor Scotty, he had no idea that the love of his life was lusting after a Swamp Rat. Glancing surreptitiously at him, Rogue tried to figure what color eyes she thought he had. Some reason though, he didn't strike her as a blue or brown eyed guy. And not green, though that would be interesting….no, for Gambit it would have to be some amazing color.

For his part, Gambit thought green eyes were definitely interesting alright, especially paired with pouty lips, two toned hair and enough sass to flood the Mississippi during a drought. He leaned casually against the wall of the elevator, just watching Rogue steal secret glances at him. Smirking inwardly, he crossed his arms and faced his head away so that she wouldn't be able to tell he was watching her too.

Finally making up her mind, Rogue faced him and walked toward him, sidling up slowly so that she was all but touching his left arm with her arm. The only telltale sign that she had shocked him was the sudden tensing of his arm muscles, otherwise he looked like a hurricane couldn't blow him over. Frustrated with a lack of response, Rogue went in for the kill. She wanted to know damnit!

Quickly, so that he wouldn't have a chance to stop her, Rogue reached up and snatched away his sunglasses. Just as quickly though, he shut his eyes tight. If she had wanted his attention, now she had it completely. He exploded, "What ya do t'at for Rogue!" Snarling, he reached for her groping for the hand that had stolen his sunglasses. This was ridiculous, he was the Prince of Thieves and he had been taken in by a slip of a girl! Cursing her silently, Remy wanted to open his eyes but there was a part of him that refused to scare her. If he scared her, then he wouldn't have a chance with her. That and the florescent lights in the elevator gave him an instant headache.

Retreating hastily, Rogue slipped the sunglasses into her pocket. This elevator ride was going a lot more slowly then she had remembered. She may not be the biggest fan of the Swamp Rat, but she hadn't meant to practically cripple him! Belatedly she wondered if he was like Scott and had a secondary mutation that he couldn't control from his eyes. She knew his first mutation had to do with blowing things up but she had no idea of he had others.

"Rogue, give me back the sunglasses." Dead serious, he stood across from her against the opposing wall, arms still crossed and eyes scrunched tight. He's serious, she thought; it was the first time she hadn't heard him refer to himself as "Remy" or "Gambit." Frustrated, Rogue walked towards him and pulled his glasses out of her back pocket. "Here."

Grabbing them quickly, Gambit placed them back over his eyes and let out a small sigh. Then he turned his attention to the only other occupant of the world's slowest elevator "What'd ya do t'at for girl!" Ok now she was pissed, she understood he had a right to be annoyed because she took them without asking, but to call her girl?

"Mah name is Rogue, call me that or else" she threatened, standing before him her hands on her his and eyes wide with temper. "Whatev'r _Roguey_," once again that smirk flashed before her, "Now, t'en, why did ya take Remy's sunglasses." Slowly he began walking towards her, and Rogue panicking slightly moved backwards as quickly as the space would allow. Gambit really had no problems with invading her personal space, finally she had reached the opposite wall and couldn't move. He had made a barricade with his arms, blocking her escape route. Though really, since they had yet to arrive in the subbasement where could she escape to?

Gazing at the woman before him, Remy noticed that her breathing had increased and her eyes were darting all around trying to find a way out. 'Interesting',' was his thought,' guessin' t'at she don't often have people who want t' be dis close t' her.' Touching her lightly on the cheek, Remy couldn't help but flinch when she did. This was the first time he had ever dared touch her and he wished that it didn't have to be through gloves.

"Why Rogue?" Two simple words and the close proximity of their bodies had Rogue babbling like brook. "Ah just wanted tah see your eyes. No one else had and well ah wanted tah be the first ah guess, ah'm sorrah, ah had no idea that ya were lahke Scott and couldn'-"

At that Remy practically fell backwards, "Like _Scotty_?! What t' hell giv' ya that impression gal? Remy ain't nuthin like de Boy Scout! Remy even bet t'at he iron his tighty whiteys!" At that mental picture Rogue couldn't help but laugh a little and it was enough to end Gambit's tirade. He had never heard her laugh before.

Shaking his head a little, Remy let out a small chuckle, "So ya wanted t' see ol' Gambit's eyes, eh chère? Coulda jus asked ya know, didn' hafta go t' all de trouble of grabbin' dem." He watched her face as she blushed lightly, which stained her face a brilliant strawberry red. Defiant, she looked him straight in the eye as best she could through the glasses, "Ah know that now you stupid Cajun, but what else was ah supposed tah do? Ya never take them damned things off! And ah've got fifty bucks riding on the color o' your eyes"

Smiling he leaned back a bit and moved one of his hands from the wall, while still looking Rogue straight in the eye just in case she decided to move her head and notice that she now had a way out. "Jus' fifty? Aw mignonne, ya coulda won at leas' a hundred offa dese." And with that he whipped his glass off and blinked in the brightly lit box, trying to adjust his eyes before gazing down at the girl in his arms.

She gasped, she couldn't help it. They were amazing! She had been right all along thinking that a guy like Gambit couldn't have had everyday eyes. They were a velvety midnight black, surrounding a blood red iris that pulsed like a banked fire. They were almost hypnotizing and beautiful. Way better than Bobby's blue and Roberto's brown and almost as good as her brother's natural golden yellow.

Self conscious, Remy waited for her to say something. He really didn't care what she said as long as she didn't scream bloody murder. He had learned early on that people were wary of the unusual, even among the unusual. Still gazing avidly at her face to try and figure out her reaction, Remy gripped the sunglasses, ready at a moment's notice to put them back on.

Rogue shook her head, "Sugah, ah think yah rahgt, ah shoulda made the bet higher. They're amazin', ah don't know why yah'd wanna hide them. In fact," at this, Rogue finally noticed that she was no longer boxed in and grabbed the sunglasses from his tightly fisted hand, "ah think yah won't be needin' these anymore. No one here cares what color yah eyes are." At a pointed look from Gambit, Rogue at least had the grace to blush again, "Well, no one but the gals anyways." It was at this highly convenient point that the elevator door opened to display the subbasement.

Still jittery from her close encounter of the Gambit kind, Rogue swiftly moved from her position between his chest and the wall and made a break for it, sprinting down the corridor towards the woman's locker room. His chuckle followed her all the way down there as she ran past Logan who was just making his way out of the control booth for the Danger Room. He stood there, shocked, he had never seen Rogue run so fast in all the sessions he had put her through. Curious to see what had spurred this all it took was one whiff of cologne, bourbon and cigarettes. "Gumbo, what the hell didja do to her?" If he was shocked to see Gambit without his customary sunglasses it didn't show.

Remy shrugged, "Gambit don' know Monsieur Wolvie, she jus' tore outta there like she had the devil on her heels. Guess the charm be too much fo' her eh?" He smirked as he sauntered down the hallway in the same general direction of Rogue. Wolverine huffed as he watched two of the more promising x-students walk away, "Right, and I'm a six foot something Australian."

In the woman's locker room, Rogue struggled with her locker. Of all mornings it had decided to be persnickety. "C'mon yah damn thang, open up!" This was not her day, first the breakfast that even McDonald's wouldn't dare make…what was so wrong with good ol hashbrowns, biscuits and gravy…her Gambit encounters, and now the locker from hell. This was almost worse than the time when her friend Wanda Maximoff decided that restricting her boyfriend St. John's access to his pet lighters…and that resulted in half the brotherhood house being burned down by a raging pyromaniac. At least then it hadn't been her problem, could this day get any worse?

"Hey Rogue, like, what did the locker ever do to you?" The cheerful and perfectly pink Kitty Pryde walked into the room and with a simple phase was rummaging through her locker for her spandex. Rogue groaned, now why couldn't she have that kind of power?

"Hey Kit, woulda mahnd terribly helpin' meh out here?" Rogue finally gave up on defeating the evil locker monster and just stood next to it, gesturing towards the combination. Kitty shrugged, "Sure, it's like, not a problem." She dropped her costume onto the bench next to the lockers and walked over to where Rogue was standing, reaching her hand in, Kitty felt around before pulling out, in her hand a bunch of black and green spandex. "There ya go Rogue." Gratefully, Rogue thanked her before pulling on the outfit.

As she adjusted her hair so that it was now in a ponytail, what had she been thinking all those years of just letting it hang all over the place, it was a nightmare to keep out of her eyes, Rogue contemplated telling Kitty that she had lost the bet. Should she? It wasn't her secret to tell, but then again, and a rather ingenious grin appeared on her face, Gambit never said that she _couldn't_ tell.

"So Kit, how's the betting pool going? Anyone make any headway on figuring out the color of Gambit's eyes?" Rogue asked casually as she grabbed two hunks of hair and pulled, tightening it into a ponytail that wouldn't dare fall out. She watched in the mirror as Kitty quit putting the finishing touches to her own costume before joining her.

"No, and it's, like, frustrating. Amara tried hiding all of his sunglasses that she could find, but we think she didn't check his trench coat, 'cause like, the next time she saw him apparently he still had them on there. Even Jean and a few of the guys have, like, joined in now." Kitty stated as she slathered on some shiny lipgloss. Rogue had no idea why Kitty required lipgloss when it was going to be gone in two seconds when they started, but that didn't matter at the time. "Jean? Why? Ah thought lil Miss-Know-It-All felt it was below her to bet against one of us."

Kitty giggled and turned to face Rogue, "Yeah, but that was like before someone mentioned that he and she would make a great couple. So now she has a hundred dollars riding on that he has green eyes to, like, match her own." It took Rogue all of two seconds before she came to a decision, "Ah wanna up mah bet." At this, Kitty's brown eyes bugged slightly, "Up it? To what, Rogue?"

The two toned brunette smirked at her reflection, "Hundred fifty says he has red on black." Remy said a hundred, so Rogue was gonna boost that just a tad. Now it wasn't just Kitty's eyes that were slightly bugged, but her mouth had dropped, "That much? Rogue, he's like, too hot to have eyes like that. Nah, they have to be normal." She sighed lustily, "And I just know they're a gorgeous brown." She glanced at her best friend, "But if you wanna lose that much, then like hey, who am I to argue?"

"STRIPES! HALF-PINT! GET YER BEHINDS OUT HERE NOW!" the bellow of Wolverine penetrated the steel entombed room and caught the attention of the girls. Grabbing her iPod, knowing it was the only way she'd survive after this nightmare by listening to some relaxing tunes, Rogue dashed out the door with Kitty on her heels.

"Thank you fer join' us ladies." Wolverine snapped as they rushed into the room. Kitty and Rogue didn't pay too much attention to his attitude, they had lived with him too long and knew he had a soft spot for the mansion's females. He then turned his attention to the entire group, "Now then, as I was sayin', Stripes and Elf you two are gonna work on precision, then strength and speed. Half-Pint, you're gonna do the obstacle course, without your powers." He grinned at her groan and then turned his attention to Remy, "and as for you Gumbo, you get to spar with me." He barred his teeth in a feral grin as his ears picked up the slight sound of an increased pulse. Gambit was all his for the next two hours.

sorry for the lack of fight scenes, I'm not good with describing them but I might try and do it as a later date

"Vhat is vrong vit Herr Logan?" groaned Kurt as he dragged himself outside the Danger Room. Everything hurt, his hands, arms, legs, tail and even fingernails were killing him. Stumbling along behind him came Kitty, "Like, I have no idea, but whatever it is maybe we should just get him a scratching post to work out his aggressions on." Her hair was bedraggled, lipgloss officially nonexsistant not five minutes into the work out, and she was limping due to a strained calf muscle in her right leg. "Remind me to never really piss off Wolverine." Together they propped each other up and then lurched towards a bench along the wall.

Practically skipping, Rogue walked out of the Danger Room, "What are yah babies whinin' about. That wasn' that bad." Behind her came Gambit, his bo staff perched on his shoulders with his arms resting on it, a playful smirk gracing his features and his sunglasses hiding his eyes once more. They both had survived due to increased training they had received when they were younger. The only reason Kurt and Kitty had survived was because of Kurt's added agility and Kitty occasionally phasing when Logan wasn't paying attention. Gambit stopped before Kitty and offered his hand to help her, always being the gentleman while Rogue continued walking, her headphones already in place and her head moving to the beat.

Without Kitty to prop him up, Kurt fell against the bench with a painful moan before 'porting himself directly to his room. It was the weekend, there was no reason he couldn't spend the rest of the day in bed. Supporting the limping girl, Remy didn't have enough time to shout let alone warn Rogue.

There was a rumbling sound, like as if there were a stampede in the subbasement of the x-mansion. But Remy wasn't stupid enough to figure that they had a zoo as well as a jet hanger down here. As the noises came closer, it was clear that these weren't animal noises, but those of the teenage mutant variety. Bobby came first, in a patented ice slide that he only just discovered last week. Knowing all too well that when Bobby gained enough speed he couldn't stop, it was all Remy could do to quickly tuck Kitty's slender body into his and brace them against the wall. He could only hope that Rogue hadn't had the iPod's volume too high and heard, or at least felt the vibrations before they came upon her.

His hopes were dashed when he heard the startled scream penetrate the area. Remy whipped his head around, now that the immediate danger was passed of being trampled by the kids, let go of Kitty and sprinted towards the huddle of bodies. 'Nonononononono…' he chanted silently, twisting and turning his body to and fro in an effort to get through. Finally there it was. She was. He'd been right, that scream had been Rogue's. Her body was crumpled against the wall, one leg bent underneath her and the other straight before, one arm spread out as if she were about to jump into flight, and the other resting lightly against her torso. She looked peaceful.

Throwing himself to the ground he gently cradled her body against his, holding her close. Frustrated that his sunglasses impeded their closeness he tore them off without a thought and buried himself into her hair. Murmuring into her ear as if that could bring her back around, so that he might see the brilliance of her deep jade eyes and that "venomous" smirk that gave him chills just thinking about it. Behind him he could hear Bobby defending himself, saying that it was an accident. Beside him he suddenly felt Kitty, heard her gasp and a sobbing "No!" as she knelt next to him.

Tears pooling in her chocolate eyes, Kitty stared at him, "Is she going to be alright?" she whispered softly, reaching for Rogue's gloved hand. Remy just looked at her, what could he say? What seemed forever later, Hank McCoy showed up and swiftly herded Rogue, Remy and Kitty into the infirmary, as Logan was giving Bobby and the rest of the new mutants Danger Room Sessions for the better part of their lives.

Minutes later, Hank walked out of Rogue's room. Nervous, he handled his clipboard as if it were a piece of china, and taking a deep breath he faced Remy and Kitty, "Well, unfortunately it appears that due to the collision with Iceman; Rogue knocked her head against the steel beam supports of the hallway. The good news is that she's alive; the bad news is that she's currently unconscious and I cannot say for how long it'll last for. She has a concussion and a broken wrist, so I'll keep her here under surveillance for a while." Seeing both Remy and Kitty opening their mouths, Beast raised a claw, "Yes you may stay here and keep her company. I think it would do her some good to hear familiar voices. For all we know it could help her come out of his coma sooner." He gave them a small smile, "It'll be alright my friends, you'll see."

Nodding, Remy just stared at the still form of his lil River Rat. He hadn't called her that yet, but he'd been planning on it. Just waiting for the right moment, hopefully they'll get that moment soon. Beside him, Kitty fiddled with Rogue's iPod and was staring at the lit up screen. "Red on Black."

Stunned, Remy stared at Kitty, "Quoi chatonne?"

Kitty gave herself a little shake and laughed wetly before looking Remy straight in the eye, "Rogue, before we went into the session, she…she said she wanted to up her ante on a bet we girls have going." Nervous now, Kitty sharpened her gaze, "Did she tell you about that?" at his nod she laughed some more, "Course she did, like, that's Rogue. See, you know the bet was on what color eyes you had. So the rest of us insisted it had to be the 'normal' colors. Rogue didn't, she said that you didn't seem like the guy who'd have normal eyes. And if you did, why would you hide them? So, she bet fifty and then earlier she raised it to a hundred and fifty claiming that you have red on black eyes. I thought she was crazy, I was so convinced that you had brown eyes." Dropping her gaze back down to the iPod, Kitty never even noticed when a tear dripped off of her face, "I guess she won after all."

Remy swallowed thickly, Rogue said that about him? He was shocked, he'd honestly thought that her proclaimed impression of him was what she honestly thought. Glancing down at Kitty's hand as her right thumb adjusted and readjusted the volume on the black iPod curiosity suddenly struck him, "What was Rogue listen' ta Kitty-kat?" Raising her head again, Kitty's eyes held a glazed appearance.

"Hm?" he gestured to the MP3 device, "What was she listen' ta when it happened." At that Kitty blushed slightly, she hadn't even really been looking at the thing, just fiddling with it. "Oh, um…" She really looked this time, and was stunned at what she found, "Wow, and here I was thinking that Rogue only, like, went for the hardcore punk rock stuff. It's Natalie Merchant's Ophelia; sad, and sweet." Remy raised his demonic eyes to the prone figure on the bed and smiled his angelic smile, 'Just like Rogue.'

Read and Review people! This is my first X-men fanfic and I need comments! Please!


	2. Ave Rogue?

_**Disclaimer**_: Don't own any of the x-men, or Natalie Merchant...wish I did…I'm simply guilty of likin' em.

_Ophelia was a bride of God  
A novice Carmelite  
In sister cells  
The cloister bells tolled on her wedding night_

The icy wind cut through the clear night as sharply as a blade, though it was spring, winter had not yet left the valley. The ever falling snow muffled every sound, but the crystalline purity only amplified the brilliance that was the flash of light that cut through the night.

When the glow of the light faded away all that was left was a shivering huddled body, desperately trying to wrap itself inside the thin scrap of clothing which covered its body. A low moan crested over the snow drenched ground as the figure desperately tried to lever itself up. '_Where am ah?_' That was its last conscious thought before succumbing to the oblivion of unconsciousness.

"Henri….Bête…are ya tellin' Remy t'at it's been three days an' there still ain't be any change wit' Rogue?" Remy Lebeau, aka Gambit, was pacing avidly back and forth, wearing a smooth patch on the tiny infirmary's floor. Three days ago one of the few girls that he had ever met who actually had a brain hiding behind her beauty was in a serious accident. He looked across the small room towards the bed in the middle and at the slender body that had been gently tucked between the covers. And at the petite body that was resting lightly, drapped across the comatose form of Rogue.

Looking at Kitty Pryde, Remy couldn't but be happy that out of everyone in the mansion at least Rogue had her as a friend. In the days that Rogue had just been laying there the only people to come and visit were Kitty, Kurt, Hank, Wolverine and himself. Just thinking about the fact that the soon to be melting popsicle formerly known as Bobby Drake, who had been responsible, hadn't even come down to see the damage was enough for Gambit's fingers to itch for a pack of cards, a crowbar or even a defroster. Unconsciously, his hands shifted into fists that glowed a light fuchsia, he wasn't too picky at the moment of how the popsicle learned his lesson.

"Ahem" slightly sheepish Remy shifted his gaze from Rogue's prone form to the big, fuzzy and blue one of resident doctor and scientist Hank McCoy. Standing just inside the door, Beast's lab coat was smeared with unidentifiable liquids and what seemed to be the cream from the center of quite a few Twinkies, Hank's brain food of choice. Sighing tiredly, Beast raised his claws to his face, removing his glass and rubbed resignedly at his eyes trying to wake up, "Remy my friend, I know you're concerned. But it has been three days and-"

Having foregone the sunglasses days ago Remy's eyes snapped with fires that burned just beneath the surface, "Remy know how long it's been Henri." Nodding in agreement, Hank nevertheless continued with his speech as he fiddled with the clipboard that he had picked up, as he looked over Rogue's chart.

"-there has been no change. And the Professor and Storm do not return for another four. And," again Remy looked as if he were about interrupt before Hank looked up, his glasses riding low on his feline-esque nose, "yes I've already checked there is no way to get a hold of them, we will just have to wait until they return."

Remy turned towards the bed again and rumpled his hair in frustration, "T'at's fine fo' us, but what about her?" he gestured towards Rogue then faced Beast again. "She's in a coma, bu' Henri, _where is she?_"

"But Reverend Mother, where did she come from? And wearing so little? It's not proper!" A poorly hushed voice broke through Rogue's consciousness, causing her to grimace against the grating sound. Whoever that person had obviously never heard it is better to be seen than heard.

"Hush Sister Beatrice, would you rather we left the poor girl out in the snow all night? Thank the Lord that we found her at all before it was too late. What sort of order would be we if we allowed those who were obviously in need to be stranded?" Another voice, this time far more gentle wafted across the room. It was this one, woke Rogue up far better than the previous.

Opening her green eyes, Rogue gazed blearily about before groaning softly. Whatever had happened to her it must have been a nightmare, her head was killing her. A gentle hand appeared in her sightline and rested lightly on her forehead, but instinct forced Rogue to flinch and jerk away. But instead of moving away from the flinching patient the hand continued to caress her forehead lightly. It took a few seconds before Rogue realized that her powers hadn't kicked in and started to drain anyone.

"My dear, you're finally awake. That's wonderful, how are you?" Glancing at the speaker, Rogue saw before her a solid looking woman with a kindly face and a sunny smile that created small crow's feet in the corners of both her grey eye. "We were beginning to worry when you hadn't woken up by yesterday." At the sound of hastily stifled snort the kindly looking woman looked behind her, "Sister Beatrice, please go and see if any of the novices have any spare robes that they can spare for this young woman." Confident that her wishes would be carried out with any trouble she turned her gaze back to her patient, missing the deadly glare that was thrown towards Rogue.

Smiling at Rogue, she removed her hand from her forehead and lightly clasped Rogue's hand instead. "Now then, since you are finally awake my dear we can begin to have some questions answered. For starters, you are in the Carmelite convent in France. I am the Reverend Mother, Abbess Julianna of this convent. We found you two days ago, outside and covered in snow during one of the largest snowstorms of the year. Now then, we have some questions if you feel up to them." At Rogue's nod she continued, "Good, first off, what is your name?"

Opening her mouth to answer, a sudden feeling stopped Rogue. Here she wasn't a mutant, she wasn't Rogue. She was simple a young woman with no previous evils in her future as far as the nuns were concerned. "Mah name is…Anna Darkholme." If Mystique was her mother the least she could do was use the last name that had been forced on her. The Abbess's smile deepened and her eyes lit up, she'd always had a soft spot for all things from the United States, "Ah! You are American! From the South I presume? How did you end up here young Anna?"

Again Rogue hesitated. What could she say? That she was a mutant, part of a group of anti-terrorists that were based in New York that almost daily fought against forces that continually tried to wipe them out. Heaven forbid mutant hating humans and human hating mutants take a break from trying to kill each other. Finally she decided to take the easy way out; besides not only was it the easiest way, but it was also partially the truth.

Anna shrugged, "Ah don't rahgtly know ma'am, last thang ah remember ah was in New York with some o' mah friends. The next thang ah know, ah'm here with you." At the sight of the pity that quickly flashed across the Reverend Mother's face, Anna chose to look instead all around her. But what she saw was nothing like what she had expected.

The light that had been shining lightly on her face came not from electricity as she had figured, but from tapered candles that flickered against the shadowed wall. Other than that there was a crucifix to adorn the walls and a picture of the Virgin. _Ah think that if ah had to live here on a regular basis ah'd go crazy. _She'd known that she was in a convent of course, where else would you have an Abbess? But the itchiness of the blanket against her skin proved that it was the highest point of reality.

The heavy tread of footsteps at the door announced the arrival of the grouchy Sister Beatrice. When she walked in though another figure followed behind, her slight body drowned by the habit she was wearing. The second nun didn't grab Rogue's attention right away, but at a second glance she had to force down a gasp, she looked an awful like Kitty! Her hair was hidden by her wimple, but it was the same soft doe brown eyes and perky nose with a gently upwards tilt. Staring openly at the young woman, Ann couldn't but blurt the first thing that came to her mind.

"Kit?!" When it became obvious that she was being addressed by the young woman on the bed, the youngest nun's eyes widened with confusion.

Stumbling after she was shoved towards the bed by Sister Beatrice, she made her way to the strange girl's side after first casting a look towards the Abbess to make sure that it was proper. At the kindly smile from her superior, she made her way to the bedside and kneeling gently, folded her hands and placed them in her lap before gazing upon the stranger.

"Kit, whereh are weh? Ah don' remembeh anything. The last thang ah know, weh're walkin' back to our rooms and then ah'm herah!" Rogue was getting frustrated with Kitty's lack of reply. She gripped the bed sheet to her body in an effort to restrain her hands which were itching to grab the girl's shoulders and shake her hard enough to force that flapping tongue of Kitty's to start moving.

It took a few seconds before the Kitty look alike before her answered, "I'm sorry, but my name isn't Kitty. I am a novice here in the convent. My name is Sister Mary Catherine. I'm sorry if this upsets you, but Sister Beatrice and I bring along good news!" She smiled and her face transformed into a complete doppelganger of Katherine Pryde. Rogue gave her head a slight shake, what kind of wonderland had she gotten herself into?

"What, ya'll finally realized that yo' phone does work? That's great, now then, ah guess ah'd better go call mah friends, "at this Rogue threw back the covers and made to stand up. But when her knees began to buckle and Sister Mary Catherine had to throw herself underneath her shoulder to support her, she knew she wasn't going anywhere. Slumping back against the flat, lumpy pillow all Rogue could do was gasp as the world before her spun and hope to high heaven that she didn't blow her cookies all over the nice Abbess's shoes. From her vantage point Rogue could watch the three penguin wannabes trade glances before the one that was called Sister Beatrice gave a great sniff and walked out the door, her habit flapping violently behind her in the manmade breeze.

Sighing heavily, Mother Abbess shook her head before looking at Anna, "I'm sorry my dear about Sister Beatrice, she is rather wary of the unknown. Now then," and at this she looked like her Eucharist had gone down the wrong tube, "I have to tell you, our um phone is out of order at the moment. In fact, the snow storm has disrupted our entire electrical system. It seems that we won't be able to repair till the snow melts, and at this altitude there is no telling when that will finally happen." Anna just stared at her, dumbfounded. This could not be happening!

"Yo' phone is down? What about mores code, don' yo' do that sometahmes? Seriously, ah appreciate this, ah really do…but ah've got to get back tah New York!" At this outburst Anna felt her eyelids growing heavy, as if there were a great weight on them dragging them down. The last thing she saw was the sympathetic glances from the Mother Abbess and Sister Mary Catherine before darkness claimed her once again.

_Who could have imagined how soft her hair would have been_?, Remy thought was he sat at her bedside and gently moved his gloved hand through her white and auburn locks. This was the closest he had ever been to her without her eyes wide open and glaring at him with enough force to conjure daggers. _Wonder what kind o' shampoo de chère uses._ It was calming and smelled a bit like vanilla, but Rogue didn't strike him as a vanilla kind of gal. She was more of a dark chocolate, double espresso, 'give it to meh spahcy' kind of gal. This thought caused a smile to dance upon Remy's lips as a memory played through his brain.

_It was only last week. He had been walking down the ground floor hallway towards laundry room when he had heard a strange noise coming from the kitchen. Since it was on his way, Remy made a detour and parked himself in the doorway. There, before him and his laundry basket occupied hands was a definite sight for dying eyes. Rogue, waltzing across the kitchen singing snatches from her favorite songs (and Remy knew they were her favorites, one day he had "borrowed" her iPod to see what she listened to) as she occasionally stirred something in a pot on the stove. At the sight before him Remy unconsciously blinked his eyes, and even shifted his sunglasses a bit lower so that he could see her without the slightly aggravating tint of the lenses. She was graceful, swaying back and forth between the stove and the counter. Before her was a large spread of vegetables that she was chopping up and dropping into the pot. __**De Rogue can cook?**__ He dropped his basket just inside the door and made his way inside the room._

"_So Chère, whatcha be makin'?" startled, she cursed as the knife in her hand slipped and instead of small pieces of carrot she now had a small cut in her index finger._

"_Damnit Gambit! What the hell do ya think ya doin'?" She growled as she stuck her bleeding digit into her mouth and sucked, trying to stop the blood from flowing all over the meal. She never heard him walk up behind her, "Here bèbe, let Remy see dat finger o' yourn." And when she tried to stop him he merely pulled her finger from her mouth and examined the cut in such a way that definitely reminded Rogue of Beast when he was at work. He ran a gloved finger around the cut, not seeing Rogue's flinch. It may not have been a deep cut but it still hurt, damnit!_

"_Oh shush, Roguey yo' such a bèbe sometimes. Now, it ain't a bad cut, but Remy'll fix it foh ya." Piqued, Rogue grabbed her hand back, "Ah am NOT a baby, you twice bitten excuse for a –" Ignoring her rant, Remy walked over and bent down to look under the sink for the medical kit that he knew the adults kept for just this purpose. Course as he was looking, Remy couldn't help but notice that Rogue had quite ranting, or even mumbling. He smirked, So Roguey be lookin' up Remy eh? Didn 'know de gal had it in her. "Like what ya see chère?" he grinned, standing up straight and looking across the kitchen at Rogue's flushed face, "'cause ya seem t' be blushing dere." Her blush deepened to his enjoyment._

"_Ah ain't blushin' Swamp Rat, it's hot in the kitchen is all. Ah was makin' mah special five alarm chili when yah barged rahgt in." But Rogue couldn't help but notice that her comeback didn't have quite the same bite as it usually did. She was desperate to look anywhere but at the Swamp Rat, so instead she watched what he was doing to her hand. Gently, he dabbed her hand with a wet paper towel before drying it with one of the cloth ones that were hanging around. Then he lightly put some antiseptic on the cut, and gazing upwards into her face and making sure that he was looking straight into her eyes, he blew on it, making her slowly disappearing flush return with a vengeance. Once he was satisfied with the color on her face, he slowly placed the band-aid over the cut. _

"_Dere, how d' ya like Remy's work?"_

_Looking over the bandage, Rogue smirked, "Pokemon? Didn' know yah was a such a fan of the show Cajun." _

_Gambit looked at her seriously, "Chère, now don' ya insult dis Cajun! Ya knew Remy was de biggest fan, he taught ya everyt'ing ya know" He winked at her, crossing his arms and leaning against the sink counter. Practically shaking with a strange combination of frustration and laughter, Rogue mimicked his look and crossed her arms._

"_Are ya sure it was yah and not Jamie? 'Cause that kid is smarter than everyone gives him credit foh. Come tah think of it, ah'm sure it was him and not yah now…he's cuter." Satisfied with the outrage she could plainly see that was just under the surface, Rogue turned back to her neglected chili. It was bubbling a bit too much for her liking so she gave it a stir and turned down the heat._

"_Why the chili foh belle?" Remy asked, as he stood behind her and watched as she gave the chili another stir._

" _Don' call meh belle." Rogue glared at him before giving her attention to the pot before her." 'Cause Ah used tah make it all the tahme when ah lived at the Brotherhood place, no one could cook yah see. Well, when ah got here, ah tried makin' it but everyone said it was too spahcy." She shrugged, "Ah don' get it really…ah mean ah even made the darn thang extra mahld foh the wimps."_

_Curious, Remy dug through the silverware drawer and dipped a spoon inside the chili pot to taste it. Then promptly dropped the spoon and gagged. Hearing the noise behind her, Rogue turned towards him, "And jus' what is yoh problem? Don' tell meh it's too hot for the Louisiana man." Expecting him to cough and gasp for a glass of water, she stood before him with her arms crosses waiting for his verdict about her chili, her eyes glittering as if daring him to say one wrong thing about the mixture. _

_Remy shook his head, in part to get the taste out of his mouth and to disagree with her, "Naw belle, it ain't too hot. It be too mild, Remy t'inks it needs to be jazzed up. Where de hot sauce?" Ok now Rogue was curious, so she stole his spoon and took her own taste. Wrinkling her nose she looked up into his sunglasses, " 'K Swampy, foh once yoh rahgt." His eyes widened, he clutched his heart and staggered slightly, "Remy t'inks the world is abou' t' end! Did Roguey jus' agree wit' Remy?"_

_Chuckling lightly she punched his arm with her gloved hand, "Don' let it get tah yah head now, we don' want it tah be any bigger than it already is, do weh?" she rubbed her hands together in glee, "Now then, let's make this chili spahcier!" _

They had ended up making it so hot that only Rogue, Remy, Storm and Wolverine could eat it. Storm and Wolverine because she was used to Remy's down home cooking, and Logan because of his regenerative abilities. Everyone else had spent the rest of the night sucking down ice water or milk, and crying for their mommies at night because they couldn't get rid of the heat in their mouths. Well, everyone except for the professor and Hank, they had been at some scientific convention. Since no one had been able to eat the chili, Remy and Rogue had been happy for a month before it ran out.

"Remy?" He didn't even have to look away from Rogue to see who it was.

"Whaddya want Chatonne?"

She came walking into the room bearing a tray filled with food, flipping her long hair behind her back as it got in the way, "C'mon Remy, like, you gotta eat something! You've been in here all day and night, and Hank says if you don't eat the food on this tray he's coming down here and he'll make you eat it." He growled, but still chose not to look at the smaller girl.

"Non, Remy ain't hungry." He shook his head and continued stroking Rogue's hair. He couldn't stop touching her, though it was through gloves and she was unconscious; he couldn't drag himself away. What if something happened to her while he was gone? Kitty gently put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it to get his attention.

When she realized that she had his attention she swept the tray of food before him, "Look, it's not like I'm saying you have to leave her or anything. Just eat the food, make Beast happy." Suddenly Kitty got a weird look on her face as she sat down next to him; glancing at him she took a tentative sniff in his direction. "Um…Remy? When was the last time you took a show-, "She finally caught his glare and shut up, looking at her hands before looking at him again, her brown eyes wide with compassion. "Honestly, you know if you like, wanna go and take a shower it's no big. Kurt's coming down in a sec and we can watch her." He shook his head and she finally went quiet.

He appreciated her gesture, but he wasn't going anywhere till Rogue woke up.

It was now October, and Rogue had been with the nuns in the convent for six months. At first the transition had been difficult. She'd had to cut back on the swearing, and learn not to call Sister Beatrice, Sister Bitch-atrice, but eventually she had gone with the flow and converted. She was now a novice with her good friend Sister Mary Catherine, going by the name Sister Anna Marie and was happier than she had been in a long time. Here she had learned to forgive everyone, but especially Mystique for using her during her entire life. This new found calm was amazing, her eyes had an extra sparkle and she had a smile for everyone.

Rogue hadn't forgotten her past life, she still remembered the Professor, Storm, Hank, the new mutants, Scott and Jean, Kurt, Logan, Kitty and…Remy. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she prayed, Sister Anna Marie couldn't forget Remy LeBeau.

Every time she closed her eyes when lights went out around six thirty at night, the face that greeted her was his. Those burning, bone melting red and ebony eyes, his thin yet sensuous lips that always seemed to be in a perpetual smirk and chiseled cheekbones that Michelangelo wished he could have carved. It was wrong for a nun to crave such things, but Rogue thought the dreams came about because of her inexplicable and unlamented loss of her powers. Now that she could touch people, what could be more natural than to dream about touching the one person that had taunted her for so long?

That was her rational every time she went into confession. Which, considering the frequency of her dreams and their debated PG-13 rating (usually they bordered around R, but hey she had her self-respect, and no self-respecting nun had dreams that were rated R of all things) she tended to attend confession almost on a daily basis. Thank the Lord above that confessions were private, otherwise Sister Anna Marie had a feeling that it would be like high school all over again; by lunch the entire convent would have known who lil Anna Marie had a crush on.

But no matter how many times she spilled her heart out to Father Ramirez, Rogue couldn't bring herself to mention that, for one, she was a mutant, and for another that becoming a nun wasn't her first choice. She loved the convent; she loved traveling to the nearby villages with the other novices to help the people out. She loved seeing the children crowd around her, unafraid of her touch. Something was wrong, but it wasn't going to stop her from

Walking down the quiet halls, Sister Anna Marie meandered towards the garden, her grey and white habit moving loosely with her body's movements. The flowers always seemed to help her thoughts, and it was such a beautiful sunny day. Humming softly, she turned a corner and accidently ran into one of the more difficult, and if she was entirely truthful one of her least favorite, nuns in the convent.

Clutching her stomach after she had been winded it took Anna Marie a second before she got her second wind, "Why, Sister Beatrice, where are yah goin' in such a hurry?" Gazing upon the woman, she could see that her wimple was askew and her eyes were glassy from running.

Gulping in deep breaths and trying to adjust her wimple to hide her grey hair from poking out, Sister Beatrice nevertheless had enough breathe in her to glare at the younger woman. "I don't see how it is any of your business _Sister _Anna Marie. Now if you will stand aside, I have business to attend." After casting one last withering glance towards Anna Marie, she swept herself down the cloisters in a hurry.

_Huh, she kinda looks lahke a dying albatross the old bird, ah hope she runs into someone else…damn, now ah have to go to confession..DOUBLE DAMN, now ah really need to go. _She sighed, apparently when she was really peeved cursing was still a habit. Anna Marie continued making her way down the cloister's silent halls towards the garden. Once there all she could do was let out a deep happy breath, she was at peace.

She loved to sit on the bench in the center of the garden because it was nearly impossible to find her. The bench was surrounded by flowers and hedges and gave her a sense of privacy that, though was easily found within the walls of the convent, seemed to be far more _private_ when it was just her, the sun and the flowers with an occasional visiting breeze. Today though it seemed like her privacy was going to interrupted.

Soft footsteps made their way towards her bench and Anna Marie gave an inward groan. How was she supposed to figure out what was going on in her head if someone was going to bother her? She just hoped that it wasn't Sister Mary Catherine, Sister Therese or Sister Roberta; for a couple of novice nuns these women were amazingly flighty and giggly sometimes.

"Sister Anna Marie, there you are, I was looking all over for you." Instead of a bubbly, youthful voice that she expected, Anna heard the low, gentle tone of the most respected woman around. She was shocked, she had never seen her walking around in the garden.

"Mother Abbess! Ah'm so sorry, ah didn' mean tah hide." She looked sheepish, how embarrassing that it was the Mother Superior who found her. Swiftly, Anna moved to the side making plenty of room for the rather plump woman.

Abbess Julianna smiled kindly, "No worries my dear, no harm done. " For a big woman she moved with surprising grace, which never failed to shock Anna Marie, and sat gingerly on the bench beside the younger woman. "Now then, I was looking for you because I felt that we needed to have a small chat."

Anna Marie could only guess what this was about, leave it to Sister Beatrice…"Abbess, ah know ah knocked intah her, but it wasn' mah fault. She was runnin' and ran intah meh…" She stopped suddenly as the tinkling laughter of the Abbess cut through the air.

"My dear Sister Anna Marie, just what are you talking about?" she asked as she gazed avidly at her favorite novice, her body still vibrating from her laughter.

Hemming and hawing was never really her forte, so Anna Marie came right out with it, " Well, uh, didn' Sister Beatrice talk tah yah? We kinda bumped intah each other in the hallway when ah was walkin' out here."

The Abbess's eyes lit up with understanding, "Oh yes! She did speak with me, but it wasn't about you my dear. Apparently some of the other novices had decided to play a small prank on her, in good fun of course, and our dear Sister Beatrice seemed to have taken it the wrong way." At her novice's smile of relief, her face took on a slightly stern look, "What I wanted to speak to you about was far more important anyways." She sighed and then looked at Anna Marie's face, "My dear, we love having you here. You are a breath of fresh air for us here, well," her face took on a pensive look and her eyes met Anna's eyes and they both smiled, thinking about Sister Beatrice, "most of us anyways. But I have to wonder, why is it that you want to join us here? When you first came to us you only wanted to get home, so you can understand how your abrupt change of heart might have shocked some."

Shocked, all Sister Anna Marie could say was "Oh, but Abbess, ah love it here. Back home, ah was neveh that happy but living here and helpin' the people…ah've changed. Ah don' think ah could live mah old life now." _Especially since mah powehs are gone_. Tears filled her eyes, she couldn't go back even if she had the chance, who knew if her powers would return? At least in the convent they respected her enough to not care if she was a mutant. She wasn't hiding, she was being realistic. The Rogue was gone, and Sister Anna Marie was here to stay.

Nodding in understanding, Abbess Julianna patted her hand, "Yes, I see. Well then, know that when you take your holy orders tomorrow we shall be happy to welcome you into the order permanently. Now then, I shall leave you here and will see you at dinner." And with that she levered herself off of the bench and gracefully walked back towards the hall.

Anna Marie sat there for a few more hours with one question going through her head. This was what she really wanted right?

The next morning, she awoke with the realization this was the dawn in a new chapter of her life. Dressing slowly, she couldn't help but shake her head every so often. It figured that the day she entered the order she would be having a migraine coming on. Soon there was a sharp knock at her door, when she answered it she came face to face with her friend Sister Mary Catherine.

"Are you, like, ready?" Her eyes were glowing with excitement that her best friend was finally becoming what all the novices one day hoped to be come. She clapped her hands, "We have to hurry, you need to be in the preparation cell before Mother Abbess realizes that you're not there and we're already, like, late!" She grabbed Anna Marie's hand and quickly they dashed down the halls, which were luckily empty. No reason to get in trouble on this special day after all.

"Like, hurry!" Mary Catherine panted as they ran, she wasn't used to this kind of workout, "And, like, why aren't you as out of breathe as I am?"

"Relax, weh'll make it in tahme!" Anna Marie replied, thinking wryly that Mary Catherine wouldn't believe her if she told the truth.

They finally arrived at the cell where Anna Marie was to wait before the ceremony. It was sparsely furnished, just a kneeler before a stained glass window depicting the Virgin dressed in a deep blue, cradling her Son. But it was enough for the future Sister Anna Marie. Happily she dismissed her friend with a hug before walking over to the kneeler and sinking gently onto it and facing the window. She kneeled there for a few hours, enjoying the quiet and solitude. That migraine though, it was a nightmare! It was the one black spot in the vanilla ice cream sundae of her morning.

All too quickly, her migraine came on stronger and stronger. Her head felt as if millions of beings were in there, banging away at all the neurons with mallets. She couldn't kneel straight let alone pray to God. The pain blocked out the joyous peal of the twin bells, she could hear nothing. Her eyes were screwed tight with concentration against the torture. What was going on?

She couldn't hear the knock on the door, or the shrieks from Sisters Beatrice and Mary Catherine, who had come to get her, as she slowly sank on to the floor. The last thing Anna Marie knew before she hit the floor was the sight of Remy LeBeau's concerned expression, and she could just make out what he was saying to her.

"Rogue, come back."


	3. We Can Do It

Disclaimer- X-men, Natalie Merchant, Pride and Prejudice, Chicago…whatever else, I don't own…don't own ANYTHING!!! Buahahaha ::coughcough::

_Ophelia was the rebel girl  
A blue stocking suffragette  
Who remedied society between her cigarettes_

"Where'd ya pick this chick up? The city morgue?" The voice was deep, husky and filled with the sharp Chicago accent, and even though her eyes were closed in an attempt to block out the blinding pain, Rogue could still feel the grainy texture of the concrete beneath her, pressing into her cheek and leaving imprints that she knew would be there for a while.

"C'mon Max, she ain't dead!" A whiny voice cut through the still pounding ache that beat its tattoo through Rogue's head.

"Hush up Billy, what Max says goes. Ain't that right baby?" this voice was like the feminine version of Gambit's, pure, unadulterated sex. It positively oozed sensuality. Just thinking about Gambit slightly eased the white noise behind her eyes.

"Wh'tever Billy, ya just desperate for a lay." The voice was quiet for a second and Rogue could practically feel three sets of invisible eyes traveling all over her body, "though, ta tell ya the trut' ya might have been better off just leavin' her in the morgue, dead or not she looks a bit frigid." A high feminine giggle punctuated this statement. _That's it, no two bit mafia wannabe, his whiny lil minion and their cheap ass floozy is gonna make fun o' meh!_

Trying desperately to keep silent, Rogue slowly lifted her eyelids, her glittering eyes taking in the sight before her. Where the hell was she now? As an X-man, Rogue was used to the weird, but her life had definitely taken a twisted turn lately. First she was going to become a nun and now she was in speak-easy hell!

The trio standing before her was the stereotypical 1920s group, but there was still something oddly familiar about them. The big guy was obviously the leader, he was wearing a pinstriped suit and spats, his brown hair parted and slicked back away from his classically handsome face; he had his arm wrapped around the thin waist of a redheaded flapper, who's heavily lined light green eyes seemed to have a hard glint to them. Their little partner made every used car salesman look like the height of fashion and hygiene. He was short and thin, his hair was blonde and greasy and the slicked back look that worked so well for Max only served to make him appear half finished; his suit was a sickly brown color and was ill fitting.

Gazing at her surroundings quickly, so as to not attract any attention, Rogue was forced to suppress a chuckle. An alley? Really, can you think of anything that could be more cliché than meeting in an alley in the dark of night? The walls around them were a gritty brick, the street light casting shadowy tendrils deep within the alley, throwing the trio into a vague relief. There were trash cans overflowing with God knows what, the accompanying smells and, at the sound of a distinct squeak Rogue had to fight the urge to wriggle away, apparently rats as well. Rats…she hated rats; their wiggling noses and long skinny naked tails. Rogue unconsciously shuddered before keeping still. Above her, Max, Billy and the unnamed female were still discussing her fate.

The redhead tossed her short, bobbed hair and pouted up at Max, "Well, if she's really dead shouldn't we get rid of the body before it starts to stink up the place?" Rogue quickly shut her eyes when they looked her way, quietly she flexed her fingers and toes in case she had to jump up and make a quick getaway.

"No"

Billy leered at the woman, "She ain't dead Janet, just out stone cold. I figure when she wakes up she'll be so grateful I saved her life, she'll be _dying_ to repay her debt. Right Max?"

Rogue shivered, who knew what they would want her to do. Where did they find her anyways? And what happened to the nuns?

"Billy, pick her up and take her to my place. She can stay there till she wakes up" stepping into the marquee produced light, a smile graced his appearance, a smile that didn't come anywhere near his eyes. Light brown and as cold as the Arctic they seemed to sear straight into the soul, and burn it from within.

"But Max! We don't need her, you got me!" Amazingly enough, the sultry tone of Janet's voice could take on a surprisingly high whiney pitch. "I can do the job just as well as any cheap, half dead, frigid girl!" Bristling, it took all of Rogue's training to not jump up and give her such a punch so that no amount of makeup would be able to cover up that black eye. Then, as if lightening had struck her, Rogue figured out how the trio was so familiar.

_Ah'll be damned…its Scott, Jean and Bobby! _

Then before she had the time to tense up, the smarmy Billy/Bobby scooped her up and carried her to a car. Course since she was still "out of it" apparently they had figured that she didn't need to be among people and therefore take up space, and so he packed her into the trunk, carefully gagging her mouth and tying her arms and legs in case she woke up. Remarkably, throughout the entire process, he somehow avoided skin to skin contact.

_Damnit, I need tah know if mah powers are back. It's the only way nuthin'll happen tah meh._ Hallucinating or not, Rogue didn't want to be raped if she could help it. And with her limbs restricted, lord knows putting up a fight would mean biting randomly. She could only hope she'd take a chunk out of something valuable.

The car trip seemed to take forever, but that might have just been because she was about to gag from the combination of lack of fresh air and her body order. Now she knew what really happened when a person forgot deodorant. _Never again will ah pick on Amara and Jubilee for all their obsessions with sprays and perfumes…ugh, ah think ah'll join 'em. _

After an eternity the vehicle slowed, which was great for Rogue since her legs and arms were beginning to cramp in permanent positions. Sick and tired of playing dead, Rogue was ready to confront her kidnappers. So when Bobby/Billy opened the trunk, the first thing he saw was two flashing eyes glaring at him.

"Oh damn…MAX!"

Noticing the peeved expression on the girls face, Billy panicked. She wasn't supposed to wake up yet! How were they supposed to explain their plan to her?

"What is it now Billy." Frustration plain on his face, Max left Janet pouting by the passenger side to see what had gotten Billy in a tizzy this time.

"Well, um, she's uh-"

Frustration quickly shifted into outright anger, "Spit it out already Billy." But all the spluttering minion could do in response was gesture inside the trunk.

By this point Rogue had figured out a way to wriggle the gag from her mouth, and proceeded to glare at the head honcho, "If yah don' mahnd, mah arms are killin' meh. And if yah don' get meh outta here NOW, ah will be kickin' someone's ass." Rogue then smiled sweetly and struggled to sit up so that she could face her kidnapper instead of being scrunched in the luggage compartment of a dinky car.

"Well well, what do we have here? Billy, Janet she's a southern belle. Imagine that." When he smirked it was all Rogue could do to not smack the grin off of his face. To her, he was still Scott Summers, and therefore worthy of being smacked around. And so was his doppelganger.

"So? I don't care if she's a New York heiress. She smells" whined Janet, as she sniffed in Rogue's direction, "And bad. Don't they take baths in the ghetto or wherever she's from?" She smoothed down her extensively beaded dress and threw Rogue a glance that screamed disdain.

"Ah sugah, why don' you come over here and ah'll show yah where ah'm from. Oh, and is that yah lipstick or are yah teeth naturally that color?" Rogue smirked as the redheaded Barbie gasped and yanked her hand mirror out of her purse to check her lipstick, before turning her focus to more pressing issues.

"Now then, ah don' care who the hell yeh think yeh are, but if someon' don' tell me what the hell is goin' on and why ah am bound in the trunk o' a car, ah'm gonna get testy."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"I'm sorry Kitty, but there is nothing that can be done right now. I have tried contacting the Professor and Storm repeatedly, but for some reason they aren't available. Now then, why don't you take Remy and get him out of that infirmary and out of the mansion? He hasn't been upstairs, or hasn't even taken a shower since it happened." Beast grimaced, his finely tuned senses could really only take so much. "And if he doesn't take a shower soon, I'll be forced to bring Logan into it and I don't believe that Remy would like to be hosed down by Logan."

She couldn't help it; Kitty had to giggle at the mental imagery. Kurt on the other hand, who had come downstairs to visit his sister, looked thoughtful.

"Vell, ve could alvays drug his alcohol and then drag him into the shower before dousing him, but we'd need someone strong enough to carry him and…" he stopped and looked sheepishly at Kitty and Hank as they stared at him surprised. "Vhat? Like you weren't thinking it as vell, ja?"

"Kurt, that's like, one of the best ideas I've heard in a long while."

At their joint chorus of 'Huh?" Kitty smiled, and shook her head, "Like, don't worry alright? Shadowcat's got an idea that'll, like shock Remy out of his Rogue induced funk." And with that she pulled her cell phone from her back pocket, excused herself and dashed towards the subbasement elevator. The last thing they heard before she disappeared upstairs was, "Hello? Yeah, it's me. Listen, we've got this problem with…you've heard huh? Think you can, like, come over?"

Beast watched the perky brunette as she bounced down the corridor jabbering into her phone, "Kurt, my fuzzy friend, do you have any idea what that was about?"

He shook his head in wonderment, "Nein, but its Kitty, hopefully it'll help Rogue. Or at least get Remy to take a shower and possibly some sleep." His tail whipping erratically behind him, Kurt followed Dr. McCoy down to the infirmary and Rogue's room. Sitting next to her was Remy playing solitaire.

His cinnamon colored hair was greasy, face unshaven and drawn; his eyes were red rimmed. Which was really quite a feat for him, but he was in no position to appreciate irony. Earlier Bobby had come down to visit Rogue, apparently Logan had threatened him with even more Danger Room sessions after he had learned that the Iceman hadn't yet paid his respects to the teammate he'd injured. Course when he had left, it was with a new accessory. A rather large black eye, compliments of one pissed off Acadian. The sting in his hand was nothing compared to the satisfaction he'd felt when his knuckles had connected with Bobby's nose and the crunching noise it had made. Chuckling, Remy moved a two of hearts over on top of the ace; that was really a sight he'd remember for years to come, Bobby whimpering and cowering on the ground as blood gushed out of his nose.

"How is meine Schwester this morning Gambit?" Glancing to his left, Remy finally noticed that his fellow resident demon was perched on the chair beside his. Kurt's golden eyes were fixed firmly on Rogue, as if his attention would automatically bring some change, movement or sound.

"How d'ya t'ink bleu? It's been quatre jours and dere ain't been any change. Remy hate ta say it, but what we need is a spook. "Suddenly those golden eyes were focused on him, their intensity almost enough to make even Remy squirm.

"Ja, but vit de professor gone-"

"De prof can' be de only one in the country now can he?"

Hank's deep voice wafted from his office next door, "Of course he isn't Remy, nor is he the only telepath that would be strong enough to enter Rogue's head. Unfortunately of the three that could, or rather would, help the X-men one is currently the White Queen of the Hellfire Club in New York City. Another was in the United Kingdom, but she strangely disappeared a few months ago in Japan. And the third is the friend of our enemy, and therefore our enemy." Realization dawned in the red and black eyes, and was evident with the sudden bight fuchsia color of the pack of cards he'd been shuffling.

"Vhat? Who?" Kurt's usually calm voice was electrified with the possibilities. He was willing to do almost anything for his family; he and Rogue may not have been blood related but in his mind that did not make them any less siblings.

"That's like really easy. Isn't it big guy?" the light, jubilant tone of a petite x-girl entered the infirmary, a tall, solid piece of Russian male on her arm.

"Chatonne?" "Keety?"

Finally Hank left the comfort of his office and popped his head out, his fur all in disarray from the week of all-nighters, "Katherine Pryde, this is a surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure of Mr. Rasputin's company? And just how did you get past Scott and Logan?"

Kitty waved her hand in the air and rolled her eyes, "Psh, like it was no big, right tough guy? Piotr was the one I called after leaving you guys down here, told him to like meet me outside 'cause I said we needed his help. It was a simple case of ding-dong-ditch."

Kurt snorted and stared at her incredulously, "You ding-dong-ditched Logan?"

She smiled and the boys couldn't help but see the evil gleam in her brown eyes, "No, Scott. You should have seen how pissed he was, in fact when Jean distracted him we-, " Piotr shot her a glance and she swiftly changed her speech, "I mean, _I_ phased his pants down. Who knew he wore Spongebob Squarepants boxers?"

Kurt burst out in a gale of laughter, grabbing his stomach and only the grip his tail had on the chair saved him from rolling on the floor. Hank joined in, the laughter causing his entire body to shake, and had to lean on Piotr who in turn was quietly wiping a tear from his eye, Kitty's retelling striking a chord in his funny bone. Even Remy chuckled at the mental picture.

"Spongebob eh? Dat's funny, Remy always figured Scotty boy for more of a Teletubbies guy." Remy turned in his seat and faced his former teammate, "So, why yo' here Petey-boy? De Chatonne need someone to do her heavy liftin' fo' her?"

Kitty glared at him, but when Piotr placed his hand on her shoulder and smiled down at her she calmed down quickly and smiled prettily back up at him. "Nyet, my friend. Keety and I have been in contact since our teams battled Apocalypse. When I heard about what happened to her friend, I knew there was someone who could help."

Shrugging Remy replied, "Sho', mais, Remy don' t'ink dat Mastermind be too willin' ta help us, n'est pas? He be too worried about what ol' Bucket Head would t'ink." Passing a gloved hand over Rogue's slightly curling hair, Remy desperately wished for the first time that he hadn't played so many tricks on the monkey man with St. John when they were still living in the base.

Piotr shook his head, "Magento is away on business for the week. He wouldn't know."

"What about the pussy cat?" Everyone in the room swiveled towards the door surprised; no one had heard the footsteps through the hallway. Kitty moved protectively in front of Colossus in case Logan decided to try out his claws on Piotr's nonmetal form. Piotr smiled gently and wrapped his arm around her slight shoulder in an effort to get her to relax before facing the shorter man.

Piotr nodded his head to Logan," Da, even him. He took off five minutes after Magneto."

Logan looked thoughtful, scratched his head and looked over to Hank, "Can't hurt can it Furball?"

Beast coughed and adjusted his glasses slightly, "Well, technically speaking, yes. First off, we don't know if Mastermind will be willing. Secondly, how do we know he won't hurt Rogue once he's in there? And thirdly-"

Fist clenching the brilliantly glowing ace of spades Remy stood up, crashing his chair to the floor. He was glaring all around, "Remy'll get de monkey man over here and he'll make sure dat Mastermind won't muck around in Rogue's brain. De last t'ing Remy wants is for Roguey to wake up and forget everyt'ing…everyone." The card in his hand wilting and burning slightly around the corners, Remy nevertheless held onto it and stared as the glowed flickered across the card's face, destroying only the first out of fifty two that would be disintegrated before morning.

Piotr nodded in agreement, "Remy and I can talk to Mastermind and convince him."

Remy, baring his teeth, grinned maniacally, "Even if we have ta get some reinforcements." Shifting his gaze from the flaring ace in his fist to Nightcrawler, Remy just had one question. He smirked at Kurt's curious expression.

"What's yo' mère been up to lately?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Rogue had to admit, for being kidnapped she was being treated pretty damn well. After their little confrontation in the street Max had insisted they move the discussion up to their "HQ" (which was really just a small apartment that oddly smelled like sauerkraut and rum). So here she was, sitting on their lumpy, badly upholstered couch, and with her legs still bound. Luckily, she had convinced Billy that retying her hands together would culminant in the loss of quite a few vital body parts that he might want to use sometime in the future. Watching him scurrying across the room at the beck and call of Max and Janet, Rogue rethought her actions. Maybe he wouldn't miss a few body parts; with that greasy, nasty looking hair and scrubby clothes God knows he wouldn't be seeing any action in the near future, if at all.

Overall, she couldn't feel any remorse for the guy. After all, he was the body double of the biggest pain in the ass in the mansion. And Rogue couldn't help but continually shake her head at the niggling sensation that Bobby had some part in the reason she was in this wonderland trip from hell. _But ah'll be damned if ah can remember just what the hell it is._

"Alright chick, let's get this straight. We need you. You need us. I don't care about your past, but you're going to worry about your future if you don't go along with us." Max was sitting across from her, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared across the three feet that separated them. Janet was standing behind him, her hand on her hip and her other hand playing distractedly with her lover's full head of brown hair.

Rogue sat back into the couch, grimacing as a couch coil dug into her ass, and crossed her arms before glaring right back into Max's eyes. _And who knew Scotty had such pretty brown eyes?_ "And if ah don'? What'll yah do tah meh? Give meh cement shoes and force meh to sleep with the fishes? Sorry sugah, but ah don' look good as the Brahde of Frankenstein, and being waterlogged does not make meh happy."

Behind him Janet and Billy switched confused looks as Max replied, "The Bride of who? Look doll, I don't give a rat's ass about no fishes. We just want to hire your services." A low glint in his eye did not give Rogue a vote of confidence about their intentions.

"Ah am NOT a hooker you pervert, besides, ain't that what yah walkin', talkin' doll is for? Course the idea that she can walk and talk at the same time hasn't been proven yet, but hey! There's always hope huh?" She smirked at the flushed color that was steadily rising in Janet's cheeks. Hey if she wasn't allowed to piss off the real Jean, why not her skeezy twin?

"Look here you slimy little piece of southern skunk trash, you only-"

"Quiet Janet."

She looked scandalized, as if no one had ever said such a thing to her before. "But Max! Did you hear what she said to me?" She quickly went quiet as he shifted in his rickety chair to look her in the eye.

"Yes, it doesn't matter right now." Turning back to Rogue he looked at her hard and long, "Right now, she does." He smiled charmingly at Rogue, but luckily for her she'd been ignoring even more potent charms from a certain Swamp Rat for almost a year and was pretty much immune, "Now then sweet thing, what's your name?"

She stared at him dumbfounded. "Wait…wait…ya'll _kidnapped_ meh and yah don' even know mah name?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Max's smile never moved and if at all possible grew larger, his teeth gleaming dimly in the darkened room. "Sorry about that doll, but see there weren't no time for pleasantries before. And now that we're all comfy cozy, let's do the introduction thing. I'm Max, the broad's my girl Janet and Bill's…well, Bill. Don't know what he's here for, he just showed up one day."

Rogue rolled her eyes, "No shit Sherlock, ah got that back when Ah was shoved like a sardine in the back of yah car." She shifted again on the couch, really what did they do to the damn thing that would make a coil attack her nether end like that?

"Max, if ya want…I can knock her out again." Max shook his head at Billy, "No, that won't be necessary. I get the feeling she'll be willing to go along with us in just a little bit. Now then, before we get back to business, what is your name girlie?"

"Call me girlie again and yeh'll see why it's such a bad idea tah mess with meh. Mah name is none o' yah business, but if yah have tah call meh somethin' call meh Rogue." Itching to kick his smarmy ass, her leg jiggled against the restrains in an effort to connect her boot with his knock off pinstripe suite and spats.

Sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms and legs, Max leered at the young woman before him, "Rogue huh? Nice name, listen Rogue, we need your help." Behind him Janet snorted and rolled her eyes, "Right, we need her help like we need the cops to find out-"

Never moving his gaze Max addressed Billy, "Bill, I think Janet sounds a bit tired. Why don't you take her into the bedroom while I talk to Rogue here?" Rogue just sat there watching the entire thing, Janet let out a wail of indignation as Billy grabbed her arm roughly and dragged her towards, she assumed, the back bedroom. Refocusing her sight on the man before her, Rogue glared at him.

"Alraght Capone, Barbie and Mr. Collins are gone. So spill, why the hell am ah here?"

"How'd ya know Billy's last name was Collins?" Max asked, a calculating look in his eye as he looked her over again and this time with a renewed fascination.

"Never mahnd, did yah never read any in school?" Rogue shook her head, her hair gently whipping her face, loosely falling from her ponytail.

"Nah, dropped out when I was fifteen." He shrugged, and leaned back in his seat, "Now then, to business. We need your help."

"So yah said before." Here her eyes narrowed, "Question is, just what is it that yah want meh tah do? And what 'services' yah want."

He waved his hand negligently, "Nothin' sexual doll, that's why I've got Janet. She sure isn't a brain, but damn that girl is good…" he stared off into space for a minute, a dreamy glazed appearance in his face before Rogue reached over and snapped her fingers loudly beside his left ear. She always knew that Janet, er _Jean _was a glorified fembot.

"Enough, yah can drool over yoh pervy thoughts later. Tell meh why ah'm _here_!" She growled, straining against the bonds wrapped around her ankles. Her feet were slowly losing feeling and she wanted access to them before she forgot how to walk, or in Max's case, forget how to kick someone's ass.

He glared at her, peeved that she had dared to ruin such a good daydream. _Hmm Janet in that skimpy lil red number from last week…wonder if I can convince her to show me her skills again tonight. _His mouth quirked into a sardonic smile, "Besides, _Rogue_, I don't think you're woman enough for me." His eyes trailed slowly up her body, taking in the loose, grey, figure destroying habit and wimple, "No offense of course. Now listen up, lately there have been some problems with the local cops. They have information that we desperately need. And I think you're just the gal to get it for me." He raised an eyebrow in her direction, an effect that was supposed to be endearing but didn't affect Rogue in the slightest.

Mumbling under her breathe as she shifted on the couch once again trying to find a comfortable spot, Rogue fought for time as she turned his proposition over and over in her head. What could he possibly want? Did they know that she was a mutant? They hadn't said anything yet, but how else was she supposed to the information they wanted.

"And just how am ah supposed tah get this info for yah? Ah'm not superwoman after all."

Any trace of a smile disappeared from Max's face, as he stood up and began to pace around the room, "Now I think we both know better than that. Look Rogue, there's no reason to hide it. Jean, Billy and I are ones too." Rogue was suspicious, if he knew why didn't he just come out and say to her face instead of pussyfooting around the issue.

"Yah are? Wait…are ones what?"

Only the sudden tensing of his shoulders underneath the black and white pinstriped suit gave any indication of his frustration when Max picked up a figurine and stared at it as he replied to the girl squirming on his couch. "Cut the crap doll, you know exactly what I'm talking about." He turned around, his knuckles turning white around the glass figure in his hand. "We know exactly how 'special' you are, so don't act like I'm stupid. Why do you think we made sure that no one touched you?"

Her jaw dropped, "Yah know ah'm a mutant?"

"Mutant? Is that what it's called?" he asked puzzled, placing the much abused glass figure back on the shelf before walking towards her, "We never had a word for it really. We just knew that we were different. Some of us have been arrested for endangering the locals. That's what we need you for."

"Wait, how did yah know that ah was…well, what ah am?" Rogue was curious; Max was right she hadn't had skin to skin contact with anyone since they met. How could he know?

"There is another one of us that has the power to see the future." He sat once again in the chair before her, his face all seriousness, his inscrutable brown eyes fixed firmly to see her reaction.

Rogue was stunned, see the future? In the 1920s? The only mutant she knew that had this power was Destiny. Was Destiny even alive back then, and was she in the United States? "What's her name?" It wouldn't be Destiny, and where she was Mystique was sure to be skulking around somewhere.

"I dunno doll, never seen the psychic; only know what my sources tell me. They tipped me and mine off that a chick, that's you doll, would come around with a white stripe in her hair and the power to somehow get the answers we need, the only thing was that you couldn't be touched. I don't know how, I don't _care_. What I want is to help the people like us." Looking into his face, Rogue could see something that was so familiar it almost made her gag. _Same ol' Scotty, still fightin' the good fight though he looks like a member of Capone's mafia; God even this sad clone of his needs a personality change. _

Chuckling, Rogue matched his gaze, "God, ya'll never change. And Janet? Billy? Are they in on this too? What're ya'lls gifts?" Max shook his head and crossed his arms.

"No, you don't need to know that until it's necessary."

Shrugging her shoulders, she mimicked his movement and crossed her arms before her chest, "'Course how stupid o' me, ya'll are the mutant mafia. Everything's on a need tah know basis."

For a second, Rogue could have sworn that his eyes glowed a faint red. _Course, don' it just figure_. "Wait, let me guess…yah're power is tah shoot red laser beams from yah eyes." His eyes widened in shock, proving that she was right.

"Can you see the future too?"

Grinning wildly at his discomfort she shook her head, "Naw, yah're jus' a lot like someone ah know a lil too well. Now then," she raised her conjoined legs slightly into the air and gestured to them with her free hands, "how's about yah untie meh, and we really talk about what yah want."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Two tall figures and a third, decidedly shorter, walked in broad daylight up the broken and weed infested pathway towards the Brotherhood's front door. The front yard was littered with random car parts from Lance's Jeep and a broken down and rusted lawn mower that obviously hadn't been used in a few years. The front door was painted a dulled red that must have once been a beacon for the home, when it had a happy family living there. Ignoring the tarnished brass knocker, the lankiest of the three figures rapped against the door firmly three times. The person that finally opened it was about five times as wide as a normal human and twice as tall and in his hands was a large mixing bowl that seemed to be filled with about three boxes of assorted cereals.

Wha' yo wan'?" Freddy Dukes mumbled through a mouthful of Lucky Charms, Cheerios and Trix. He was dressed, or rather not dressed, in a dingy looking wife beater and a pair of cliché heart printed boxers. It was all Remy could do to not shut his eyes tight and not open them till the large boy put something one that could cover _everything_, behind him Kurt was making a weird sound as if his gag reflex was working in over time. Piotr was stoic as always, standing beside Remy in silence.

"Mornin' Freddy." Remy smiled charmingly, the range of his emotions hidden behind his sunglasses, "We was wonderin' if a certain blue skinned, red headed bitch was around."

Blob swallowed his mouthful before replying, "Mystique? Yeah, I guess she's here. I dunno though, maybe you should talk to Lance." Twisting his bulk around, Freddy managed to scoop in another mouthful of cereal before screaming across the house, "LANCE!" Flying saliva covered flecks of random cereal bits speckled the room as if they were a bizarre Jackson Pollack painting, the one no one wanted to buy.

Standing beside him, Remy could hear Kurt as he muttered a disgusted, "Oh now that's just gross." Though he didn't say it, Remy agreed wholeheartedly; no wonder Freddy had to leave Texas, who'd want to deal with his eating habits? After Lance walked up, Freddy quickly moved his bowl where it might do the most damage, as close to his mouth as possible, and walked away shoveling it rapid fire, barely leaving time to swallow.

Glancing back into the house, Lance shouted at the Blob's retreating back, "Hey Blob eat that in the kitchen, last time you ate in the living room it took us forever to get the sour milk out of the couch." Then he turned back towards his unwanted guests, "What do you want X-geeks?"

Before Remy could speak up Kurt piped in, "First off, obedience training for Blob, that was nasty." Glaring at Kurt, Remy pushed him back behind him and spoke to the rock tumbler.

"Look, we jus' need de blue bitch. Is she here?" Gambit was getting annoyed, it was extra sunny today making his eyes extra sensitive and he hadn't been away from Rogue this long since she landed in the infirmary. His frustration just mounted as he noticed the look that came into Alver's eye.

"Why should I help you guys? You're keeping Kitty away from me; every time I call some idiot x-geek tells me she doesn't want to speak to me." He leaned against the door jamb and blew his wayward hair out of his eyes, glaring at Kurt, figuring it was mainly his fault.

To everyone's surprise Piotr stepped menacingly towards Lance, "That may be because she caught you kissing another girl." Remy and Kurt looked surprised, why hadn't they heard Kitty's telltale sobs after this had happened?

Lance glared at the much larger man as he straightened up and took a step towards the Russian, "Look, _Colossus_, I don't know who you think you are, but whatever happened is between Kitty and I."

Glancing at the dueling men, Remy could have sworn that he saw Piotr smirk at Lance. But a rapid blink and a double take convinced him he just needed more sleep, Rasputin didn't smirk at anyone.

"Yes, between Kitty and you…and myself." Lance gaped at him, Kitty talked to the muscleman? "You're lying, Kitty wouldn't tell you that."

Piotr cocked an eyebrow and his lips quirked into a smirk, proving that Remy wasn't going crazy. "Nyet? I believe that Kitty said it was, what is the name? Bam Bam…Boomer…" With each name Lance grew paler and paler, "Ah, I think it was Boom Boom, that is it. Did I say it right?" A weak nod from Avalanche confirmed he was, "Good. Now then, Kitty doesn't want to talk to you. Leave her alone." At this Piotr's hand shifted from the normal skin tone to his metallic form and he took a small step towards the hood, causing Lance's nod to firm up and pick up speed. Satisfied, Colossus resumed his position behind Remy allowing the mission to continue.

Remy smirked at the shaking younger man, "Now den, where is she?" He was enjoying the sight of Lance being intimidated by the Russian a bit too much.

Lance shrugged, "Dunno, last time I checked she was still AWOL. Ya never can tell with Mystique." From behind him, Remy could hear the faint sound of Kurt growling and Piotr shuffling his feet; tiredly he rubbed his eyes behind his sunglasses. What were they supposed to do now?

Quickly he snapped his fingers, his shaded gaze never leaving the younger man, "Nightcrawler, port through the house and see if you can find her." A loud _bamf!_ and the nauseating smell of rotten eggs announced Kurt teleporting.

Lance's eyes widened, "Wha…? You can't do that! This is private property!" His hands stretched outward in a telltale sign that he was getting ready to attack before Gambit swiftly stepped forward and pulled the boy towards him with a death grip on his vest.

"Look, Gambit don' care too much about 'private property,' it don' go wit' the business. And if ya don' like it, call de cops and see how dat works." Avalanche's mouth dropped in a silent gasp as his vest and shirt suddenly glowed a bright fuchsia, "Now shut up an' let Gambit talk. Don' care about yo rights, don' even care if ya call de police. What Gambit cares about is that Rogue is hurt and we wanna know where Mystique be. Are ya gonna tell us or are we gonna have ta let you chat wit' Piotr? 'Cause Remy don' t'ink dat he's finished sayin' everything he wanted ta." A slow grin spread across his face as the distinct sound of cracking knuckles wafted across morning breeze.

"Rogue is hurt?" Lance's face was pensive and he was silent for a few minutes before meeting the trio's gaze, his face completely serious, "Why didn't you say so in the first place? She was a Brotherhood chick for a while, of course we'd want to help. But about Mystique, seriously she's been gone for a while. Might wanna check the school or Magento's place. I think she said that she wanted to do some recon."

_BAMF!_

"De weasel is telling ze truth, mutter isn't in there." Kurt announced as soon as the smoke around him cleared, "Unt, no one knows anything. But I think that Pietro is hiding something."

Rolling his eyes, the rock tumbler glared at Kurt, "Of course he is, blue boy, he wouldn't be Magento's son, Wanda's brother and Quicksilver if he wasn't" he snarled at the trio before backtracking into the house and slamming the door shut before Colossus could get to him.

Sighing, Remy turned to his companions, Kurt's tail was drooping despondently and Piotr was still watching the Brotherhood door. OK so they weren't any closer but at least they had another possible searching point, and hey, they had meant to go there anyways. Cocking an eyebrow in the direction of tall, dark and Russian Remy grinned, "So Petey-boy, what's dis about you and de Chatonne?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Want some gin?" Glancing from her hands, which had been placed in the middle of her lap, Rogue came face to face with the slimy Billy. After Max had untied her legs, Rogue had spent the following ten minutes trying to massage the circulation back into her ankles while he had been in the back room. No matter how quiet it was and how hard Rogue strained her ears, she couldn't hear a thing between the three of them. It had shocked her that when Max marched out of the bedroom, behind him skulked Billy and Janet.

"Can't, ah'm not twenty-one." _Bullshit, ah just don' wanna drink from anythin' here. God knows what kind of disease ah'd get._

He laughed at her mockingly before crashing onto the couch next to her and addressing his leader, "Ya hear that Max? The chick won't drink the gin 'cause she ain't twenty-one."

"Aw poor baby, does she want her bottle?" sniped Janet from the corner window, her back to the group as she tried to get the best light from the street lamp to see into her compact.

Rogue growled low in her throat, she didn't care how many local mutants needed her help, if Janet made one more comment she'd be drinking her tonic through a tube in the hospital. A heavy hand fell upon her shoulder making sure that she didn't launch herself across the room, a hand which was attached to their brown haired ringleader.

"Janet, babe, shut up. And Billy, for god's sake if she don't want the gin then she don't want the gin. Don't forget, we need her." His face was scrunched up in what Rogue had come to call back at the mansion his "constipation face," it was the face he always got when he was trying to be the team leader and think of a brilliant plan. Only it was so much funnier this time around because she was looking at Scott without his visor.

She sighed heavily before shrugged his hand off her shoulder, if he been leaning any harder on there she would have walked away with a definite hand print. "Look, screw the drink. What the hell do you expect meh tah do about the sitch here anyways?"

Satisfied, Janet snapped her compact shut and finally faced the group, "You didn't tell her Maxie?" Her green eyes were glittering down at Rogue as she walked across the living room, her blue beaded dress swishing around her body with every step, steps that were plainly calculated to catch Max and Billy's eye. At least this was plain to Rogue who could only roll her eyes while the guys visibly drooled; if she wanted out of this sad version of Arkham, she'd have to get her act together and fast.

"Look Powder Puff, he told meh. Ah just don' see how you expect meh tah do this." Max nodded even as he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of Janet swallowing every last drop of gin from the glass she had poured. It took a hard elbow to the ribs from Rogue to get him to concentrate again.

"That's right; I wanted to wait till everyone was out here before we talked strategy."

Next to Rogue, Billy yawned, stretched and lazily allowed his arm to fall behind Rogue and wrap possessively around her shoulders. Staring blankly in front of her it took every ounce of her willpower to not snap his hand off right then and there, "Ok Billy, we could do this the hard way or the easy way. Yah could take yoh hand back, with no injuries. Or yah could leave it there and Ah could surprise yah." Visibly scared, Billy swiftly retracted his much beloved limb, "Good move, touch meh again and next tahme yah won' get a warnin'." Turning her attention back to the avidly watching Max, Rogue glared at him, "Yah were sayin' 'Maxie'?"

"We need you, you know this. But what we-," and here he gestured at himself, Janet and Billy, "don't know is what exactly it is that you can do that we can't for ourselves." Janet tried tossing her hair, but it was so short that the effect that lost upon everyone present.

"Yeah, I mean, what is she going to do? Read their minds? Hello, tried that already." Sneered the redhead as she sat on the arm of Max's seat and crossed her arms.

Rogue smiled grimly at the flapper wannabe, "Nah, ah do somethin' much worse than simply poke around in someone's head. Wanna come here and Ah'll show yah?" Slowly and deliberately, Rogue rolled up the sleeves of her habit to illustrate the pale glow of her skin to the woman, "It won' hurt yah…much. But that's a chance we'll have tah take won' it? Besides, ah don' think that yah have too much in yoh head tah begin with, so it'll only take a second." Watching the happenings silently, Max sat back in his seat even as Janet tensed up beside him and Billy fidgeted in his seat at the tenseness of the atmosphere.

Janet gripped the back of the chair and glared at the other woman, "Don't you dare touch me you sad, unwashed piece of gutter trash." Glancing down at her lover she tried to appeal to his better nature, "Max, c'mon tell her not to come near me, you don't want me to be hurt do ya?" At his shrug and indifferent expression she jumped up and quickly ran to the other side of the room, as far from Rogue as she could possibly get.

"Aw is wittle Janet scared of Rogue? Poor sugah." She smirked at the taller woman and settled back into the couch, now much more comfortable since Billy had decided safety over sex and moved as far away as the tiny couch would allow. Elegantly, she adjusted herself and crossed her legs and smiled benignly at the redhead.

Glancing at his paramour, Max tried to talk to her, "Janet, c'mon hun. This is silly, if she's gonna help us we need to know what she can do." In indignation she threw her hands up in the air and glared at the two men, "And what about you two? Why does it have to be me!"

Billy smirked at her, "Maybe 'cause she hates you?" One look at Janet's face told the shorter man that it would be much safer for him if he relocated to another part of the apartment, and quickly. As soon as the dust cleared from his rapid escape, Max tried to rationalize the situation with Janet again.

"Look hun, we need to know what her power is and how it would help the plan. Besides, Billy's and my powers are too explosive, not like yours." His winsome smile showed off his glowing pearly whites, clearly wearing down Janet's resolve and fear until she reluctantly nodded to be the guinea pig.

Rogue manically rubbed her hands together and grinned at the nervous woman, "Wonderful sugah, let's get the show on the road." Looking at Janet, she widened her eyes in an attempt at an innocent look that'd had a ninety-eight percent success rate when she was younger trying to weasel cookies out of Irene. "Ok Roxie, first off try and hide any thoughts or memories that yah don' want meh tah see. And then the fun begins." Desperately trying to hide her devilish grin, Rogue lost the battle but was overjoyed to see the wariness in Janet's eyes.

Ignoring the diabolical exchange between the women, Max focused on Rogue, "Fine, anything else she needs to do doll?" He gently gripped Janet's hand in an effort to restrain her from dashing away like Billy had, course it wasn't much of a fight since he was a lot stronger than she was, but still it was needed. When she wanted to, Janet could run like the devil.

Rogue shrugged and replied, "Yeah, come over here. Ah can't work across long distances."

Max gave his girlfriend a not so gentle shove towards Rogue before leaning forward in an effort to not miss a moment of the process. Janet hesitantly stepped toward the shorter woman and stopped about three feet away, not knowing how close she really needed to be for it to work. Rogue shook her head, gesturing to the seat next to her, so she tentatively sat on the very edge of the couch cushion, beside the white-striped brunette. Scared, Janet whispered to Rogue, "What do I do now?"

Wordlessly, Rogue held out her right hand, palm down and stretched it toward Janet's. She didn't want to touch a large surface area if she could help it, a small touch on the back of the hand should do the trick. Glancing upwards through her lashes, Rogue noticed that Janet's foundation was running down her face, she was sweating from fear. "Relax sugah, it'll be easier if you don' tense up." Nodding, Janet raised her own hand and slowly presented it to Rogue. Taking a deep, cleansing breathe, Rogue concentrated on receiving only small pieces of information before she gently touched the back of Janet's hand with her pointer and index fingers.

There was a sudden rushing torrent through both girl's minds as images bombarded them; thoughts, feelings, memories, likes, dislikes, images, they all fluttered through Rogue's mind as she concentrated hard on not draining everything from the girl beside her. Max watched, stunned as his girlfriend brokenly moaned and slumped backwards, her head resting against the back of the couch, her mouth slack and Rogue removed her hand and shook her head in an effort to quickly sort the information. Sessions with the professor over the past year had helped a little bit with the absorption process, this time she hadn't gotten anything from the redhead other than general feelings towards Max, Billy and, in her case, hatred for Rogue. It wasn't a whole lot, but it was enough to knock her out for a few hours.

Opening her eyes, Rogue came face to face with the slightly frightened one of Scott Summers, no, Max something or other; who knew what his last name was. Who cared? "What, didn' yah enjoy the show?"

He swallowed, glancing hurriedly at Janet's lax body before looking at Rogue again, "What the _hell_ did you do to her?" Not in any hurry to make any sudden movements in case Rogue felt the urge to attack him, he gracefully stood up and moved slowly towards Janet. He touched her face, turning it side to side to see if there were any physical changes and then grasped her wrist to check her pulse, which was slow but even. Rogue watched him look over his girlfriend and realized once again why she and Scott would never have worked out, he was too devoted to Jean.

"What did ah do? Ah showed yah mah power ya doofus."

He shook his head and continued looking over Janet, "No, I expected something…but not this. Do you always knock out your victims? What will happen to Janet? What _happened_?"

Tiredly, she nestled back into the lumpy couch and prepared for the lengthy explanation. In order not to freak him out anymore, Rogue slowly and deliberately rolled her sleeves back down and covered her arms. Once again she was a prisoner of clothing and her powers. It just figured that the serenity and freedom with the nuns was over. "What happened? The same thing that always happens when ah touch another person. Ah don' know how it works, but ah end up with the person's memories, emotions and personality. Ah have to stay covered up so that ah don' touch anyone accidently." She finished sadly, gazed down at her cloth covered shackled wrists. Would she ever know the freedom to touch again?

Nodding distractedly, Max repositioned Janet so that when she woke up she wouldn't have a crick in her neck, "What happens to the other person? If it's gonna hurt someone we'll find another way than use you." She shook her head before explaining, "No, usually the person isn' hurt. It knocks them out for a few hours then they wake up feelin' like they have a slight hangover." He nodded again and sat back in the chair that was facing the couch and Rogue.

"So we can use you. How long do you keep the memories?"

Rogue bobbed her shoulders quickly and cast her eyes down to the stained carpet, "Ah dunno, we think it depends on how long ah hold on tah a person foh." Glancing quickly at his face, Rogue could practically see when the light bulb became lit, his eyes glowed a slight ruby color as he gazed at her avidly, snapped his fingers and pointed directly at her, "Wait, that's why Janet couldn't read your mind. She said it was like running headlong into a solid steel wall of voices and personalities."

She nodded and held up her hands in a defeated gesture, "Yeah, and now ah know that she was a telepath with a small dose o' telekinesis and Billy can create and manipulate ice. Though honestly ah kinda already figured that out." The grin she turned towards him then was almost feral in ferocity, "And the next time yah want tah have my mind read, just tell meh. Ah'm sure Red would enjoy a romp through mah mind."

He gave a small nod before staring off into space, obviously not paying attention to her anymore, his expression once again that of the "constipation face" that Rogue loved to mock with Remy. Remy, god when was the last time she had thought about him? _When ah was about to join a friggin convent…idiot. _She shook her head in an attempt to change her train of thought; she did not need to think about him or the other x-men right now. But were they even looking for her? Did they care that she was wandering around doing God knows what God knows where? Suddenly restless, Rogue stood up and made her way to the small, dingy window in the corner; it was graced on both sides with ragged and age stained lace curtains that smelled vaguely of mothballs. Outside, Rogue could only see the slim streetlight and its weak beam of superficial light that radiated a low glow gently across the concrete, farther down the way she could barely make out a flickering building sign that, if she had seen it during the day read "SHOES FOR SALE," but at night the "S" flickered violently leaving the sign to entice passersby with "HOES FOR SALE." Stifling a chuckle, Rogue continued to casually watch the outside world, one so different and yet so familiar to the one she knew so well.

She was busy counting the number of pinstripe suits that were parading up and down the sidewalk so late in the evening when Max cleared his throat loudly. Turning around Rogue was greeted with his pale face watching her carefully, as if he were fearful that she might explode any minute. Frustrated at his reaction, Rogue grumbled beneath her breath as she made her way towards him, what did he expect from her powers anyway?

"Alraght Maxie boy, what's it gonna be? Tar and feathers, or boiled in oil?" She quipped tersely glaring at him, it was bad enough that normal people reacted to her powers badly, what did it say when mutants did also? "Personally, ah always wondered what it'd be lahke to be drawn and quartered, befoh yah run meh outta town think yah can do meh that one lil favor?"

Max ignored her immediate questions and spared a quick look at his pocket watch, it was well past midnight, and Billy had gone to bed about an hour ago. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Max rose from his seat and stood before Rogue. "Look doll, I don't care about your powers as long as they'll get us what we need. Janet'll be fine and you can do the work. All you need to do is walk into the police station and "interrogate" the cops, find out what we want, and then get out of there. We can handle the rest." His bloodshot eyes then twinkled as his mouth quirked into a mocking smile, "But first we gotta make sure that when they see you they won't just ship ya off to St. Anthony's, first thing tomorrow mornin' we're getting ya better duds." He started to hold out his hand then thought better of it before gripping her upper arm, the heat of it soaking through the rough linen of the habit, "Deal?"

Rogue just looked at him. They say that a person's eyes are the window to the soul, and usually Scott's soul windows were shuttered so tight that a nuclear bomb wouldn't scratch it. But Max's were obviously tired, red rimmed and she could see he was having trouble focusing on her. _What the hell, ain't lahke ah got anywhere tah be foh a while. And they need meh, Xavier would have mah spandex if he knew that ah hadn't helped some mutants. _Rogue nodded her assent, "Sho' thing. Besides, this ol thing is getting kinda itchy, new clothes'll be nahce. Just as long as they ain't Janet's, God knows what kahd of diseases ah could catch with those rags." Satisfied, Max gently pulled her along and left her in the guest bedroom, and before leaving her said they would wake her up at dawn.

Rogue was too busy soaking in the details of her new room and by the time she realized that he had said the dreaded word "dawn," he had already shut the door quietly behind him.

"Dawn?!"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The sun had long reached its zenith in the sky, the shadows growing longer around the downtown Bayville buildings as Remy, Piotr and Nightcrawler (now with his image inducer back on) made their way towards Magneto's secret, not-so-secret base. There weren't a whole lot of people walking about as it was near dinner time for most families. Earlier in the day, after their rendezvous at the Brotherhood house, the trio had first stopped off at the local high school to see if Mystique were hiding around there, but after breaking in through the cafeteria kitchen window and raiding her office they hadn't found anything.

Struggling to keep up with the longer legged guys, Kurt bounced along behind them, panting, "Who knew that Magento would be so stupid to order his metal from Home Depot? Remy, my man, is there any girl you can't flirt with?" After they had figured out where the villain purchased his necessary metal, Remy had turned on the charm and convinced her to let me see his information.

Squinting through his sunglasses at the setting sun, Remy looked beside him at Piotr, "Do ya t'ink dat de Monkey Man'll still be at de base?" Piotr glanced to his right and shrugged at his friend and former teammate. "Right, course." Remy nodded, "We shoulda started at de base instead of de Brotherhood place." All three nodded, they had practically wasted a whole day searching Bayville for Mystique. Figures that the day any x-man actually wanted to find the shapeshifter she was nowhere to be found.

Walking along the sidewalk, eventually the three of them turned a corner and walked into an alley between a restaurant and a bookstore where Remy and Piotr had stashed their bikes. Though Kurt could port, they didn't want to risk it so he was going to ride bitch with Colossus. Just as Gambit was picking up his helmet to place it on his head, a violently clanging rang out from one of the garbage cans along the restaurant side. Startled, all three threw off their helmets and shifted into their various fighting positions.

"Meow?" from around the base of the tipped over can, flowed a slender, slinky black cat with large golden eyes. Kurt released a lungful of air that he'd unconsciously been holding, while Gambit watching the cat intently; Piotr ignored the animal and continued preparing his bike for the short ride to Magneto's. The animal slowly made its way towards them, as if it didn't know whether it was a good idea to go anywhere near this odd trio. Eventually, it stopped in front of Kurt, and purring, began to twine in and out of his legs, rubbing against the unseen fur. Smiling largely Kurt stooped down and slowly picked up the feline, his family in Germany had always had cats and he had missed them.

"Dat's a cute chat mon ami, " said Remy as he reached his hand out to pet the animal behind her ears, but quickly retracted his hand when the fangs and claws were flung towards him, "mais, it needs to lighten up on de cat nip n'est pas?"

When Gambit pulled his hand back, the cat calmed down and started to purr as it rubbed itself under Kurt's chin. "Gambit, let's bring her back ja? Ze Professor won't mind." Scratching his own chin with his unscathed hand, Remy watched the cat closely; there was something wrong with that animal. Then it hit him, it was too clean to have been living in the alleys and garbage cans.

"Kurt! Put dat animal down!"

Holding the newly christened Süßholz (1), Kurt just stared at Gambit, "Why meine freund?" By this point, Piotr had abandoned the bikes and stood beside Remy, and was also watching the cat carefully. It was odd that the cat had tried to claw the Cajun, animals always loved him.

"' Cause dat ain't a cat!" He exclaimed, shocked, Kurt glanced down at the animal in his arms to find her watching him with a familiar glint in her eyes. Eyes that looked suspiciously familiar.

"Mutter?"

Gracefully, the cat leaped from Nightcrawler's arms and landed a few feet before the trio. Then before their eyes, her limbs elongated, she grew taller and stood upright, her silky black fur melted into her body leaving behind skin colored a deep and attractive blue. The fur on her head lengthened and flowed into a glaring red color, just as her teeth lost some of their feral sharpness. At the end of the instantaneous transformation, there stood the much hated terrorist mutant Mystique, mother to both Kurt and Rogue. And she was glaring at Gambit with death on her eyes.

"I should have aimed for your eyes you slimy piece of gator bait." The three males stared at the mutant terrorist shocked, before Kurt flung himself at her and wrapped his arms and tail tightly around her body. "Mutter! But ve thought you vere dead!" Gazing at the top of her youngest son's head, Mystique's expression softened slightly and she gingerly placed her arms around her, as if she was worried that the instant she tightened her grip he would slip through her fingers faster than smoke.

"No Kurt, as you can see I am not dead." After one last imperceptible squeeze, Raven let go of Kurt and faced the ringleader of the group, Gambit, "Now then, X-men, why are you following me, and it had better be a good reason or else. And you, Colossus, you work for Magneto, what do you want?" Focusing his unique gaze on the woman before him, Remy tilted his head towards Kurt, giving him permission to explain everything.

Kurt's grin at the sight of his estranged and resurrected mother dimmed a few watts, "Vell Mutter, it's like this, see, something happened and now Rogue is in a coma in the infirmary." He shuffled his feet dejectedly for a few minutes, his tail drooping sadly to one side, and refusing to look into the shocked face of his mother.

One minute Mystique was standing there with a blank expression on her face, the next she was shaking Gambit with her hands wrapped firmly around his neck, slowly squeezing the life out of him, "I knew it! You had something to do with my daughter being hurt, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?" Once Kurt and Piotr noticed what was happening they hastened to Remy's aid, struggling with the frenzied mother, trying to yank her off of Cajun, whose face was rapidly turning a raspberry color, "_WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY ROGUE?_" But Remy could only struggle against the clawed fingers that were digging into his windpipe.

As Kurt tried to reason with his mother, and Colossus tried brute strength, Gambit tried a different method. As he was shaking from the combination of lack of air and the force of Mystique thrashing him back and forth, Remy desperately reached inside his trench coat and grabbed his bo staff. Quickly, he thumbed the button along the side, elongating it, then he slide it between her legs and with a swift twisting jerk, knocked her off balance, forcing Mystique to fall against the opposite wall with a rough _bang_. Cough and spluttering, Remy massaged his through and gasped for air as he tried to explain, "Remy didn' do nuthin'! He's spent de past quatre jours down in de infirmary wit' his chère in case she woke up. Gambit was protectin' de petite Chatonne when it happened." Realizing that at least for now Mystique was not going to attack him, Remy stashed his bo staff in one of his many pockets as he took a water bottle from Piotr with a thankful glance.

Kurt nodded, "Ja, I vas there just before it happened. Gambit was walking vit Keety and Rogue was ahead listening to her iPod." He shrugged helplessly at his mother, "It vas an accident Mutter."

Crossing her arms irately, Mystique glowered at Gambit, who was still gently feeling along his throat to make sure she hadn't drawn blood, "Fine. You didn't do it. Tell me who did and I will take care of them." She said, her hand lingering at her hip where a black leather holstered gun was resting negligently. Seeing Kurt shake his head, her expression only darkened. "Kurt! Tell me who-," But she was interrupted by Piotr, who, seeing that Remy could not yet talk, decided to fill in the details.

"Nyet Mystique. That is not why we looked for you." In a blink of an eye Mystique's patented glare shifted from being directed at Gambit to Colossus, but she remained quiet, her foot tapping lightly against the asphalt her only display of impatience. "We need Mastermind. Rogue is in a-," he glanced at what Kurt was mouthing to him and nodded, "-yes, a coma. She has not moved or woken for four days. Ze professor is out of ze country, and Mastermind is the only one who can help us, da?" She was still for a minute, her eyes dimmed as if in extensive thought before she nodded in agreement, her golden eyes cold. "Mastermind will not listen to us," Piotr said, gesturing to the three of them, "But, we think with you he will help ze Rogue."

"If that miserable excuse for an evolved monkey refuses to help _my_ daughter," Mystique unlatched her holster and lovingly caressed the barrel of the gun, "then Magneto had better hope some of his parts are metal otherwise no amount of power will put him back together." Watching her warily, Kurt slowly made his way so that Colossus was between them, but Remy just stood his ground and grinned widely.

"Well den Mystique, Remy guess dat de monkey man deserves a visit den, n'est pas?" he said hoarsely, as he walked over to his bike and yanked on his helmet.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Y'all are just freakin' nuts. How can y'all be up at the crack 'o dawn and be standin' nonetheless, without any coffee?"

Janet rolled her eyes as she glanced at the shivering southerner, "Oh shut it you big baby, you're wearing one of my best dresses." Comfortable in her mink coat, she snuggled deeper into the soft fur and secretly mocked the obviously out of place Rogue. The two women were standing on the street just outside of Max's apartment waiting for the men and their back up before they executed the plan. Unfortunately for Rogue, it was around five in the morning and there wasn't a coffee shop to be found. _If ah had to be stuck in any godforsaken city, why couldn' it be Seattle?_ Uncomfortable, she shifted in her low cut green beaded dress; she had told Max that she'd rather die than wear Janet's clothes and here she was wearing her dress, her shoes, her jewelery and even her elbow length cream colored gloves.

"Stop shifting, you look ridiculous." Janet sniffed delicately, "But at least you smell better." Grinding her teeth desperately, Rogue wondered what the court ruling was on premeditated murder in this time period.

"Where's Max, Billy and whoeveh?" Rogue said, turning towards the hated woman in an attempt to get out of the cutting early morning wind.

"_Marcel_, his name is Marcel," sighed Janet, a dazed, starry look in her eyes, "and he's gorgeous." Casting a disdainful look Rogue's way, Janet laughed lightly, "Don't worry _Rogue_, you won't have much to do with him. He likes his women sophisticated, worldly," she fluffed her short hair and sneered at the younger woman, "and touchable."

"Oh then he should love yah, yoh the type o' woman who's been touched lots o' tahmes, raght? By, how many different guys was it?" Rogue grinned into the breeze as she heard the unmistakable sound of grinding teeth float across the air.

"There you two are!"

Turning around, Rogue and Janet were greeted by the sight of Max and Billy, with another man walking slowly along behind them. He was taller than Billy, and thin, very thin. He had penetrating blue eyes and black hair that was on the longish side. But Rogue could definitely see why Janet thought he was 'gorgeous,' he was incredibly good looking.

Walking up beside the two women, Max wrapped his arm around Janet and introduced the newcomer to Rogue, "Marcel Nordetoile, this is Rogue, she is our prophecy gal."

Aggravated, Rogue just stood there as the man ran his eyes up and down her body in appraisal, then he smiled and gallantly grasped her hand and drew it to his lips, "Enchanté mademoiselle, we have been expecting you for a while."

_Oh hell no, not another_ _Frenchie!_ She gritted her teeth and smiled tightly back at him, "Hi, nahce tah meet yah Marcel." He nodded and then so quickly that Rogue couldn't track it, he turned his attention back to Max.

"She'll help?" at Max's nod, Marcel smiled at Rogue, his blue eyes watching her closely, "Good. Now then, Billy my boy, how about you take me somewhere we can talk, catch up and get some breakfast?" Rogue choked back a gasp as she noticed Marcel's gaze lingered a while on Billy, and the smile that came with such a caressing gaze. _He's gay! _It took all of her will power to not jump up and down, point at Janet and sing at the top of her lungs, "You were wrong! You were wrong!" Instead, Rogue defrosted her smile and watched Billy's reaction.

"Uh, er…um, ok I guess. I could go for some coffee." He had a deer in the headlights look at being singled out, but then turned to Rogue, his light blue eyes begging desperately, "How about you hot stuff, wanna get a cup or two?" she chuckled and shook her head, satisfied that it would just be the two of them then, Marcel winked at her and happily linked arms with the shocked mutant and started sauntering down the street.

Waving to Max and the girls he called back, "We'll be back in a while, don't wait up!" While Billy struggled to unlink his arm from the apparent death grip that Marcel had on it.

Rogue glanced at Janet, who appeared to have noticed nothing out of the usual, smirking she asked, "So, Janet, he likes his girls touchable huh?" Max chuckled, realizing that Rogue had picked up quickly on Marcel.

Janet nodded, "Of course he does," her expression turned puzzled for a second and her green eyes were quirked in a perplexed manner, "I just don't get why he hasn't hit on me yet. Most of the guys do at one point or another." Holding her breath, Rogue tried desperately not to explode with laughter.

Patting her arm, Max tried to console her even as he winked at Rogue, "It's alright Janet babe, so what if he doesn't have taste. You always got me hun." Cheered up she nodded perkily at her lover and then smirked at Rogue.

"Whatever," she shrugged, grinning at the redhead, not wanting to get into a cat fight she then addressed Max, "so sugah, what are we doin' now?"

He sighed heavily and looked at her," Honestly, the best time to actually do the job would be at night." Then he cringed, waiting for an explosion. He wasn't too far off.

"WHAT? YAH MADE MEH GET UP THAT EARLY FOH NUTHIN'?" Breathing hard, Rogue's face had turned a violent shade of pink and her hands were shaking. She had been dragged outta bet at the crack of dawn for this? With no coffee? Someone was going to pay!

"I know! I know! Relax though doll, there was a reason we got up so early." He ran his fingers through his hair and smiled at her, "Wanted to make sure you took a bath today, for instance. And those new duds." Beside him Janet snorted and Rogue could have sworn she heard being mumbled, "yeah, my new duds."

Tired and caffeine deprived, Rogue angrily crossed her arms and huffed, glaring at the culprit, "If'n ya'll expect meh tah help yah, then we gotta do somethin'."

In defense, Max raised his hands in an effort to calm Rogue, "Relax doll, I just said it was the _best time_, but it's also the time anyone would expect someone to do something. So we're doing the job this morning." He pointed to Janet who batted her mascara lined eyelashes at him, "Janet'll go in with you and distract the guards, and I'll wait out front in case Marcel and Billy ever come back from their coffee…"he coughed and glanced at Janet before continuing, "…date. All you have to do is flirt a lil and work your way into the records room, find the list of names and then get it back to us. Easy, right?"

Rogue's jaw dropped, "Easy? What, were you the kid who could do a Rubics cube in five minutes? That sounds…fun actually. "A calculating expression shone through her deep green eyes, "Fahne, let's do it."

Max nodded and grabbing Janet, who was busy staring at her image in her compact, the three of them started walking towards downtown. Janet whining all the way to the police station.

"Why do we have to walk? Why can't we get a cab? These are new shoes Max! If I break a heel, it'll be all your fault. And it looks like it's going to rain; do you know what rain will do to my hair?" Walking ahead of the woman, Rogue looked at Max.

"How the hell can yah live with that every day?" she asked, "Ah mean, if she was mah girlfriend ah'd kill her after the first date."

Glancing behind him, Max noticed that Janet was still complaining, he then looked at Rogue and grinned, "Yeah well, I could definitely understand that, but she's pretty hot in the sack." Rolling her eyes, Rogue debated in slowing down so she didn't have to walk with the pervert, but then she'd be stuck with the walking, talking blow up sex toy. Or she could speed up, but then she wouldn't have the damndest idea where she was going. _Aw screw it. _

About twenty minutes later, the three of them marched into downtown Chicago. Walking into a doughnut shop, Max sat in a booth and gestured for the girls to sit in the seat across from him. After ordering a couple of glazed doughnuts, he pulled from his inner jacket a map of the police building. Smoothing out the wrinkles in the obviously much viewed paper, Max spread the schematics on the table.

He pointed to the entrance, "Ok, here is the entrance, "he looked up to be greeted by Rogue's bored expression, "alright so it's obvious, I'm trying to make things easy for my Janet, 'k? Now then, the entrance is pretty much free of guards so you won't have a problem getting in the building, just schmooze a lil." Bored out of their minds, Janet was once again looking into her compact to make sure that no hair was out of place, and Rogue was busy drumming her fingers on the sticky table top surface and trying not to fall asleep. _Damn do ah miss the x-men, they may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but at least missions aren't so low tech._

"Fahne, Max, we get it. Just tell meh where the records room is and then let's get tah it. Ah'm sick and tired of waitin'." He glared at her for a minute, for daring to interrupt his well laid plans.

"Fine. Go across the street and I'll be here when you get out. If you get caught, we'll get you out sometime tonight."

Rogue stared at him, her body half in and out of the booth, "Get caught? Sugah, ah never get caught." _'Cept for that one time when ah was stuck in Area 51, and then there was Apocalypse…aw hell, what he doesn't know won't hurt him. _And with that she slid out of the tack booth and sauntered out of the restaurant without making sure that Janet was following her.

Once out on the sidewalk, Rogue stood for a second in the fresh air, breathing deep. It was still early in the morning, the sun barely haven risen by this time, fingers of light were caressing the various buildings and shops; though it was so early, there were people all around. And enough to make sure that Rogue and Janet weren't conspicuous when walking across the street. The only striking thing about them was the fact that they were two beautiful, tall, well dressed women walking into a police station. What could possibly go wrong, they were women after all, but who could suspect anything of such striking women?

Pausing just outside the station, Rogue nodded to Janet who then made her way inside and struck up a conversation with the portly officer at the desk. From her vantage point, Rogue could see through a window that Janet was definitely using her God given wiles, there was a lot of hair tossing and eyelash batting going on. Surreptitiously, Rogue adjusted her dress so that it maximized her cleavage, took a deep breath and then pushed through the revolving doors. Inside the building, it was pretty quiet. Apparently there was a lot of crime going on in the Windy City that day because the only cops around the entrance was the one that Janet was practically making out with and a slightly younger man, who appeared to be his partner, but he was also busy drooling at the redhead.

Quietly, Rogue ignored the trio and walked past them, straight through a set of doors that, according to the map, would lead her to the main area where the cops would normally work in their little spaces. If Max's report on the sudden spike in crime were correct then there should hardly be anyone in there. But just as a precaution, Rogue slowly removed one of her silky elbow length gloves. Placing it in her clutch, she glanced around the office; just as she had hoped there was hardly anyone in there. Off to the side was another door that apparently gave way to a stairwell.

Striding swiftly towards the door, Rogue cursed the noise her heels made, the loud and obnoxious _click-clack_. No matter how hard she had tried to argue with Max and Janet, they had insisted that she wear them, apparently it would look suspicious if she had walked around wearing flats or something. Whatever, they were stupid for a mission that demanded stealth. She was suddenly thankful for the foresight of removing a glove when, upon opening the door, Rogue came face to face with a short, red faced officer.

"Hey! What do you think-"He didn't get any farther, before he could announce her presence to the entire precinct, Rogue lightly touched his cheek with her naked hand; he didn't fight her and seemed to drop peacefully off into sleep. _Gin, cigarette…gotta smoke…need a smoke…Betty, where'd she go? Wonder if she called…_

Numb and a bit shell shocked, Rogue fiercely tossed her head to and fro, _Ah'm Rogue damnit…ROGUE!_ She breathed deeply for a minute or two, concentrating on what the professor had taught her before this bizarre trip though wonderland. Just as soon as he had invaded, Rogue managed to force the man's, who was named Jerry Bennett apparently, psyche to the back of her mind where it joined the myriad of others she had acquired through the years. _Poor Bastard_, Jerry knew nothing about mutants, but his wife had just left him and hadn't left behind a note or anything and he was worried sick. One good thing she picked up though, was that due to a huge fire somewhere in south Chicago, the majority of the precinct and the fire department were there. Making this mission all but easy pickin's.

Slightly drained, Rogue bent down and propped the sleeping Jerry against the stairwell wall before gazing at the stairs she was supposed to climb. And in three inch heels no less. If the map was correct then the record's room was about three floors up. God help Max, Janet and Billy when she got out of here was her grim thought as Rogue mounted the first flight of stairs.

The going was slow, but at least she didn't meet anymore policemen; her head was still buzzing uncomfortably from Jerry. His wasn't a particularly strong psyche, but it was fresh. After hiking the stairs for a good fifteen minutes, her lungs were starting to burn slightly. _When ah get back…ah'm gonna force Logan to put me through the workout of mah life. This is ridiculous!_

Her prettily decorated green clutch was now nice and damp after being hauled up several flights of stairs, her heels were aching horribly and Rogue would have bet her first born that there was a blister the size of Alaska growing somewhere on her foot. Her dress, after having been shifted such a distance was now feeling about as heavy as a bullet proof vest plus firefighter gear, irritated, Rogue adjusted the dress yet again against her curvaceous frame. She paused for a few minutes, leaning briefly against the doorjamb, panting and trying to catch her breath. After one last deep gasp of air, she wrenched open the door quickly, glanced around, dashed through and quietly shut the door behind her.

The floor before her was deserted. Of people at least, everywhere she turned her eye though, Rogue saw rows and rows of filing cabinets and shelves stocked with incriminating evidence. Walking closer to the shelves, Rogue noticed that they were dusty and filled with cobwebs, further evidence that hardly anyone ever came up to this floor. Suddenly, her clutch slipped from her sweaty armpit and crashed onto the lowest shelf with a _thud_, which sent up a plume of dust into the air. Quickly she retrieved her purse and backed away from the dusty shelf, holding her nose and desperately trying to restrain a sneeze that was dying to escape. Unfortunately she lost the battle with her nose.

"_ACHOO!"_

The force of the sneeze blew her back a few inches, just enough to make Rogue knock into one of the many filing cabinets. Grumbling, she turned around while rubbing her lower back; when she had been knocked into it the drawer knob had struck her rather hard. She bent down to look at the label of the drawer card, but it was so dusty there was no way she could have read it. Blowing gently across the writing, the words "Special Case," greeted her.

"Bingo!" She said; grinning, Rogue dropped her clutch on top of the cabinet and then grasping the knob, yanked the entire thing out. Rifling through the paperwork, one in particular caught her eye. It was actually several pages, all tacked together. They were untitled, but glancing through them Rogue could see that every page was a list of names.

"James Woods, Ability to melt inanimate objects through physical contact."

"Oliver Reynolds, past recognition."

"Max Foster, sunlight manipulation resulting in optic beams." Seeing that one, Rogue's eyes widened, they even had Max listed, assuming his last name was Foster. But looking at the power listed, it appeared it was.

"Marcel Nordetoile, super speed."

"Aurore Nordetoile, super speed."

Rogue whistled as she flipped through, glancing at the names and powers. There were either a lot of mutants in Chicago, or else the police were holding these names for someone else with an even worse purpose. Humming to herself as she tucked the notes into her clutch, she shrugged lightly. It wasn't any of her business. She had done her duty and was now free. Gingerly, she replaced the file drawer. Hopefully no one would notice that the dust had been disturbed until it was far too late. Just as quietly as she had entered the floor, Rogue left.

Quicker than she climbed the stairs, Rogue practically flew down the stairwell. There was no one around to hear her and the sooner she was outside the building and the sooner she put the papers in Max's hands the safer she'd feel. And the sooner she could try and find her way home. At the base of the stairs, Rogue noticed that Jerry Bennett was still propped uncomfortably against the cinderblocks of the wall. Shaking her head, Rogue left him there. Sooner or later a fellow officer would come along and wake him up, or else he'd wake up on his own none the wiser. Just in case, she pulled her glove from her purse and pulled it back over her arm, silently mourning the loss of her temporary freedom.

Slowly opening the door leading from the stairwell, Rogue noticed that there were more officers back in the office wandering around than before. Silently cursing, she figured now was the time to practice the stealth that Logan had been desperately trying to pound into her brain. Soundlessly, she inched her way from the doorway and allowed it to shut, the click of the door knob barely making a noise. Quickly, Rogue took into account how many policemen were in the room and where they were. There were four at their desks, their heads all bent over and they appeared to be working industriously. Another quick glance showed her that there was another one over by the window; he could be slightly tricky if he suddenly decided to turn around.

Deciding to take a risk, Rogue moved as quietly as she could along the tiled floor with her heeled shoes. But apparently not quietly enough, one misplaced step must have been too loud because the officer at the window jerked his head and look right at her.

"What are you doing back here?" His hazel eyes traveled up and down her body, taking in her outfit slowly, "You're not an officer, ma'am." He was younger than Jerry Bennett, and much cuter too, with clean cut brown hair that was slicked down in the style of the age. His uniform fit his body just right too. Unfortunately, Rogue couldn't enjoy the sight overmuch because when he had spoken up, the rest of the officers had glanced up from their desks to see what had caused the interruption. Swiftly, Rogue decided to become what she hated the most, a weak female in need of help.

As if in surprise, Rogue raised her right hand and laid it against her chest, "Oh mah, ah'm so sorry gentlemen. Ah thought this was the way to the restroom." She smiled charmingly, her green eyes fluttering at the youngest of the men. His face relaxed instantly, and the other men smiled at her, as if understanding that it was an honest mistake. Inwardly gagging at this act, Rogue dropped her hand and moved toward the cute, young officer. "Would yah be so kind as tah help meh?"

Grinning foolishly, he tipped the brim of his hat at her, "Course ma'am, I'd be delighted to." Offering his arm to her, he nearly fell over when she gripped it, "You have quite the grip there, don't you ma'am?"

"Jane then." Nodding, he urged her towards the building entrance, holding the door open for her, all the while staring at her as if he had never quite seen anything like a woman before. Walking through, Rogue was happy to see that Janet was still flirting with the old police officer, turning towards her officer, she laid her hand gently on his arm.

"Oh thank yah so much, Officer…?"

"Jameson, um, Ken Jameson." He blushed at her touch like a young school boy.

Nodding, Rogue smiled to see his face flush, "Thank yah Officer Jameson. Well, ah see mah friend, we have an appointment later and need tah get goin'." Releasing his arm, Rogue moved quickly towards Janet, grabbed her arm and all but pulled her out of the building, never looking back to see the wholehearted wave that came from her new admirer.

Once outside of the precinct building, Rogue kept her grip on the now complaining Janet as they walked through the crowd. Cutting across the street, she dragged the taller woman around the corner before stopping to catch her breath. Panting from running in the much hated heels, Rogue looked at Janet, "Did they follow us?"

"No, but why'd you drag me out of there? He was going to give me the name of his young, good looking nephew!" she whined never looking at Rogue, and holding her own clutch to her chest, she dug through there searching for her favorite lipstick.

Rogue merely rolled her eyes and renewed her grip on the other woman's arm, "C'mon, Barbie. We gotta get back tah Max and report." And with that, the two women rejoined the flow of bodies, and made their way back towards the doughnut shop.

Walking inside, Rogue saw that Max was still sitting at the same table as when they had left him, but he had now been joined by Marcel and Billy. Releasing Janet once inside, Rogue made her way over to their booth and stood beside Marcel until he had scooted over enough for her to squeeze in beside him. When Janet had finally joined them and squeezed in between Max and Billy, Max faced Rogue.

"Ok, so how'd it go doll face?" irked, Rogue made a face at him.

"Maxie, don't you know that women hate to be called that?" Marcel chirped at him; he was, as Rogue noticed, practically glowing from the coffee date with Billy apparently. She sent him a grateful look which he cheerfully noted and winked back at her. Max shrugged and looked pointedly at Rogue for an answer.

She shrugged, and returned his look with one of her own, "Want an answer? Get meh some coffee first." Grumbling under his breath, Max nevertheless signaled the waitress who brought a round of fresh cups to the group. Finally content that at least something was right in the world, Rogue joyfully sipped at hers with her eyes closed so she wouldn't have to see the look on Max's face. Peeping one eye open, Rogue saw that everyone but Janet was staring at her.

"What?" she asked indignantly, "Haven't y'all ever seen a girl appreciate a cup o' coffee befoh?" Max glared at her, his brown eyes shooting daggers right into her green ones, "Fine, fine Maxie. Don't get yah panties in a twist."Both Billy and Marcel sniggered into their cups, Rogue took on more sip before focusing on the mission.

"Alrahgt. Yah information was raght, there were hardly any cops there. Somethin' tah do with a fire in the south side." She waved her hand in the air as if it didn't matter, "Janet went in there, did her thang. No issues with that, ah had no troubles until ah made mah way tah the stairs." Max raised an eyebrow at her, while Marcel, Billy and Janet simply stared, Rogue shrugged, "Met a cop by the name o' Jerry Bennett, took care o' that for now. Upstairs, found everything fahne." She opened her clutch at the table and pulled out the sheath of papers, handing them to Max as she said, "Found the list. And ah don' think that list is only for Chicago, there can' be that many mutants here just yet. Ah think there's more to it, but ah don' know where y'all might look."

Flipping through the papers, Max nodded as he found a name every so often that he recognized, "Good work, the both of you. This'll help mutants everywhere. Now then Rogue, for the next mission, we just need you to-,"

"No." She shook her head at his scandalized expression, "Ah said no Max. Yah said ah was involved in only one thang, the rest is up tah y'all." She forstalled his rant with a raised forefinger, while shaking her two toned auburn locks, "Ah need tah fahnd mah way back home. Y'all be fahne."

Marcel raised his hand tentatively, and relaxed when she nodded in his direction, "So, where are you headed then?" Billy nodded along with his question, but Janet had one of her own.

"Are you going to give me back my clothes?"

Rolling her eyes, Rogue stared in disbelief at the ditzy redhead, _Ah don' know how the hell ah'll ever be able tah look Jean in the eye ever again when ah get home_. "Yes Janet, yah'll get back yah clothes…skank." The last part was mumbled under her breath so only Marcel could hear, which he did with a snort. Addressing Marcel's question, Rogue shrugged, fiddling with her coffee cup between her gloved palms, "Ah dunno, ah jus' figured that ah'd make mah way down south somehow." He nodded and the entire table fell silent.

A few minutes later, Max grunted and slammed back the rest of his scalding hot coffee. Nudging Janet and Billy out of the booth, he stood up and motioned towards the door, "Well, if we're finished then I guess you'd better get out of town and on your way home." Agreeing, the five of them packed up their stuff and made their way towards Max's apartment.

There, Rogue "borrowed" one of Janet's overnight bags, which she grabbed when her back was turned. Inside of which she stashed the clothes she had arrived in and a few necessities that Marcel forced on her. After talking to him for a while, Rogue had to say that out of the group she definitely liked Marcel the best, he was the least annoying. Once everything had been stuffed in there, she fastened it and carried it into the living room where everyone was sitting on the couch. Strangely, her head was pounding lightly. _Must have been Jerry earlier_. Sometimes when she absorbed a person she got a headache.

Dropping her bag in the center of the floor, Rogue caught Janet's glare, "What?"

Janet huffed and crossed her legs, "Nothing. I just don't see why you have to wear my second best outfit to travel in. What's wrong with traveling in the rag that you came in?" She eyed the green ensemble sourly as she sipped at the glass of champagne in her hand. They had broken into the good stuff upon arriving at HQ.

Rubbing her temples, Rogue ignored Janet for the most part and instead focused on Max, "Alright, so who's giving me a ride to the train station?" Man this was a doozy of a headache.

Marcel looked at her closely, concern etched across his face, "You sure you're ok sweetie?" Rogue nodded, but when she opened her mouth to reply the entire world tilted, she slammed into the ground, and the last thing she knew, she had been drenched in a sweet smelling, slightly sticky liquid and a shriek pierced through her migraine.

"Oh! My champagne! Not my shoes!"


	4. Just call meh Anna

Disclaimer- I own nothing but what my imagination creates that does not include, West Side Story, The Producers, anything created by Mattel, or X-men; Love it, like it, just don't sue me for it:-D

_And Ophelia was the sweetheart  
To a nation overnight  
Curvaceous thighs  
Vivacious eyes  
Love was at first sight...  
Love was at first sight...  
Love..._

A sun dappled lawn, stretching crisp and green as far as the eye can see. The gently blowing scent of just blooming daffodils assaulted the twitching nostrils of the sleeping body lying stretched along a row of hedges. Blinking blearily, wide, brilliant green eyes noticed that the ground beneath her was a hell of a lot softer than the itchy, thread bare carpet that she remembered falling onto. Sitting up slowly, she stretched her arms high in the arm, groaning lightly at the popping of her joints. These headaches were beginning to be annoying, they kept coming at weird times and when she woke up, suddenly, she was in a different place and time.

Tiredly, she blinked the sleep from her eyes and then gazed around, trying to get a handle on her new surroundings. It appeared to be a suburban neighborhood, and she was reclining on the edge of someone's lawn, half hidden by a bordering hedge that needed to be trimmed. Rogue gingerly got to her feet, the heavy beading of her dress falling across her legs. Feeling something wet brushing against her; Rogue reached down and felt the damp hem of her dress. Sticky, it was the champagne from Janet's glass that had been spilled on her when she fell.

"Whoo boy…what the hell have yah gotten yahself intah now gal?" She moaned, slapping her forehead. Glancing behind her, Rogue finally got a good look of the house whose lawn she had landed on; it was a large, two story white affair with a bay window to the right and a Mercedes Benz in the driveway. There were a few toys and a tricycle strewn across the fairly large lawn, obviously there was at least one child living in that house. Dusting herself off, Rogue made her way across the lawn and towards the front door.

Straightening her dress, Rogue brushed her messy hair back behind her ears took a deep breath and grabbed the brass door knocker, pounding it against the wood of the door a few times. Shivering slightly, Rogue vigorously rubbed her arms against the light breeze. A dress that had worked in the summer of Chicago in the twenties obviously didn't work in the suburban of where ever in the early spring. Tapping the toe of her ridiculous high heeled shoes, Rogue contemplated knocking again, or even pushing the doorbell.

Before she could even lift her arm towards the knocker, the door was yanked open. Standing before her, was Martha Stewart's evil twin. Bedecked from neck to mid-thigh in a floral printed apron was a woman of average height, long chocolate brown hair that had been swept back away from her face to reveal an aristocratic nose and high cheekbones, her ears were dotted with large pearl earrings and she had three strings of pearls the same size as her earrings wrapped around her throat. Her deep brown eyes appraised the stranger on her doorstop with interest, "Yes, may I help you?" Agog, Rogue could only stare for a second, _it can't be…_

Shaking herself mentally, Rogue blinked sheepishly at the expectant woman before her, "Ah'm sorry, mah name is…Anna and ah think ah'm lost." A sympathetic smile graced the woman's face, as she reached her hand out towards Rogue.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, my name is Allison Morales, call me Alli." Rogue quickly stuck her hand out towards Alli, shaking her hand gently. Thankfully she was still wearing the elbow length gloves that Janet had given her. Stepping backwards, Alli gestured for Rogue to enter the house. Thanking her profusely, Rogue followed Allison into her home, the door shutting gently behind them.

Inside, it took a second for Rogue's eyes to adjust to the much darker interior. Slowly, she noticed that the inside of the home was immaculate, not a hair out of place. This was odd considering the chaos of children's toys all around the lawn and the untrimmed hedges. Rogue followed Alli down the entrance hall and into the kitchen.

Walking towards the fridge, Alli called to her guest, "Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you care for anything to drink? Eat?"

"If yah have somethin' tah drink, that'd be wonderful." Rogue replied as she settled herself into one of the table surrounding a worn but well kept table. Thankfully, she took a sip of the ice tea that Allison handed to her, before chugging half of it down in one gulp.

Alli smiled, "It's good isn't it? It's my husband's mother's recipe." At Rogue's fervent nod, Alli laughed lightly, "Wonderful! Glad you like it."

"Where's yah husband?" asked Rogue, glancing around the squeaky clean kitchen as she took another long, thirst quenching sip of the delicious tea.

Shrugging her delicate shoulders, Alli replied, "Oh, he took the day off and decided to take the children to their grandmother's." Rogue nodded and continued to gaze around the spotless kitchen; it was almost…supernatural how clean it was. Soon, Rogue realized that she must have been thirstier than she thought because her tea quickly gave way to remnants of ice clinking gently at the base of the glass. Wordlessly, Alli took back the glass and walking over to the fridge, she refilled it before handing it back to Rogue.

Sitting across from Rogue again, this time Alli crossed her legs and arms and watched Rogue quietly. Rogue was halfway through her second ice tea before her host spoke up again.

"That's an interesting dress, very pretty, it looks vintage nineteen twenties. Where in the world did you get it? It must have cost you a fortune!" Gently, Alli reached across then ran her fingers across the delicate beading of the dress sleeve. Rogue swallowed the lightly fruity tea nervously, tensing her arm muscles in case Alli's hand slipped.

"Oh, um it's a family heirloom of a friend. It's in amazing condition isn't it?" She replied, smiling into her tea. Allison didn't need to know that when she had first put on the dress it had been practically brand new.

Alli nodded in agreement, "Definitely, it's wonderful to see such a rare find now and days." She sighed happily, and then gazed at Rogue in concern as she shivered heavily.

"Are you alright?"

Surprised, Rogue grinned as she roughly rubbed her upper arms for heat, "Yeah, ah'm fahne. Jus' not used tah how chilly it is here." Laughing self deprecatingly, Rogue pointed to herself, "Ah'm jus' a lil ol' Southern Girl. It's usually warmer there."

Laughing along with her, Alli nodded, her silky hair bouncing along with her head movements, "I know, it's been so strange this year. It's not usually this chilly here in California." Shocked, Rogue's eyes widened slightly, _California? How the hell did ah get here from Illinois?_ While thinking about this issue, Rogue noticed that a curious expression crossed Alli's face.

"Um, Anna, I'm curious, you said you were lost and then when I mentioned that we were in California you seemed surprised. Are you sure everything is alright?" Looking into Allison's face, Rogue could tell that she was practically bursting to know; she was biting her lower lip, her brown eyes fixated firmly on Rogue's green ones and she was unconsciously twirling her hair around her index finger. _Amara Aquilla. Change the name, can't change the desperate curiosity._ Knowing that if she didn't tell Alli something that would satisfy her curiosity, Rogue would never get any peace it took her a few minutes to figure out what to tell her.

"Well, last thing ah really remember is being in Chicago. Next thang ah know, ah was wakin' up on yah lawn." Shyly, Rogue reached up and tucked back a wayward strand of white hair behind her ear. Allison's jaw dropped in astonishment.

"And you don't remember anything?"

Unconcerned, she shrugged, "Just mah name really." Scandalized, Alli gasped, holding her hand up to her open mouth; these things always happened in the novellas she hid from her husband but never in real life! This was so exciting!

Overly sympathetic, she jumped up and dashed to the other side of the table and wrapped her arms around Rogue's shoulders, "You poor thing! And you have no place to go?" Rogue was hesitant to answer that question, what if Alli asked her to stay? Could she do it and not give into the urge to kill her, an urge that was a daily fixture in the mansion? Staring in the beseeching, liquid brown eyes Rogue inwardly groaned at her hopelessly soft heart.

Nodding, Rogue cringed at the excited squeal that erupted from Allison. "Then you have to stay here! For as long as it takes!" Jumping up and down in one spot, she clapped her hands together and started to compile a list of what Rogue would need.

"Ok, you can sleep in Anthony's room. He can move into Teresa's for the time being. Let's see…clean sheets, clean towels, soap, deodorant, toothbrush…" Watching Allison pace around the kitchen, her apron swirling around her body and her modest heels clacking against the linoleum, ticking off each item on her fingers, Rogue gave up. She knew from firsthand experience that forceful handling of Amara wouldn't get a person anywhere. The best method was to let her run her course and then take over and completely steamroll her.

"Won't yah husband be upset?"

Interrupted from her list, Allison glanced up in surprise at her guest, "Oh, Roberto? Oh no." she shrugged, smiled at Rogue and continued to pace, "He won't care as long as you don't raid the fine china. Now then, where was I? Oh yes! You'll need some decent clothes and…"

Rogue's mouth dropped, _Roberto? No way, it can' be_ that_ Roberto. _Frustrated, Rogue allowed her head to fall into her hands as she tried desperately to ignore Allison's ramblings. _Out of any hell ah could have come tah, it had tah be the one where ah'm stuck with Amara and Roberto. _

_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_

Shuffling quietly through the moon drenched hallways of Xavier's mansion, a low voice cut through the midnight gloom.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me…" Chuckling heavily in the darkness, the singer hummed the rest of the tune to the silence; to any passersby the tread of the nighttime wanderer would have easily been pinned for the walk of a drunken man.

_THUD_

"Owww…" came the defeated groan. Light suddenly flared through the corridor, illuminating the slumped figure of a drunken Cajun sitting against the wall, rubbing his head gingerly.

"Yer a poor schmuck Gumbo." Stalking heavily towards the younger man, Logan leaned down, grabbed his well worn trench coat and yanked him upwards until he was on his own two feet, though still swaying heavily.

"Wha' ya do dat fo' Wolvie? Remy be fiiiiiine." Chuckling, Remy leaned on Logan and blew a deep, alcohol drenched breath into his face. Finally carefree, Remy lurched forward, shoving Wolverine away from him and started prancing down the hallway. Growling low in this throat, Logan marched after him.

Grabbing him roughly by the back of his neck, Logan started dragging the younger, inebriated man towards the kitchen. Forcing him down onto a bar stool, Logan growled at him, "Stay." Before making his way towards his top secret, totally hush hush, stash of alcohol. Opening the top cabinet, Logan pulled out a handle of rum and vodka as well as a couple of shot glasses. Turning back around, he saw Remy staring at him, drool beginning to drip slowly down the side of his face. Shaking his head, Logan made his way back towards the Cajun. He slammed down the liquor and glasses on the island counter, jarring Remy out of his frozen state.

Slowly, Gambit dragged the back of his callused hand across his mouth, wiping off the drool that had accumulated. Lowering his hand onto the marble counter, Remy stared as Logan opened the rum and poured two generous helpings into the shot glasses. Catching the Cajun's eye, Wolverine topped off the glasses and slid one towards him.

He caught it clumsily, raised it eye level and stared at the tiny glass hard before transferring his gaze back to Logan. Blearily, he stared at the short, hairy man, "What dis fo' mon ami? Ya ain't gonna yell at Remy for drinkin' too much already?" Sighing heavily, Logan tossed back his glass, allowing the deliciously burning liquid to flow straight down his throat, then motioned for Remy to do the same.

Watching the Acadian throw back the shot like a pro, Logan shook his head, "Naw Cajun, I figured that yer old enough." Pouring them both another one, Logan shrugged as he watched Remy toss back his second one, "Besides, we're both in the same boat. We care for Rogue, we don't know if she'll ever get out of that damned coma and-"He stopped when Gambit threw his hand in Logan's face and glared at him, his eyes sizzling with restrained emotions.

No trace of alcohol slurring his voice, Gambit interrupted Wolverine, who surprisingly fell quiet, "Non, Roguey will wake up. She has to, we..." his voice broke slightly, "we need her too much."

Nodding, Logan grabbed their glasses, left the rum and went straight for the vodka, "I agree Gumbo. Here," quickly, he handed a third shot to Remy. Together they clinked their glasses, each murmuring softly, "to Rogue," before gulping back the flavorless, clear liquor.

Frustrated, Remy finished his shot and slammed the glass onto the island, his red rimmed eyes staring unseeingly at the older mutant, "Dis ain't fair. Hank is bustin' his ass, day et nuit tryin' to figure sumtin' out. Remy, Piotr and Kurt finally find dat blue skinned bitch of a mutant. And suddenly," Remy's head shot up and pinned Logan to his seat, his gaze wild, "dat stupid, fils de putain of a monkey man ups and runs." Forgoing the shot glass, Remy reached around Logan, grabbed the neck of the handle of rum and tipped it up to his lips, drawing a long pull of the sweet, fiery liquid. Swallowing, he glanced at the label and glared at Wolverine, "Is this bourbon?" Seeing Logan shake his head, Gambit shrugged and continued to chug the distilled substance.

Watching the amber liquid rapidly disappear, Wolverine sat back impressed at Gambit's tolerance. "Might wanna go easy here Cajun, save some fer later." Gulping his last mouthful, Gambit carefully set the bottle on the counter, wiped his mouth and then proceeded to fall off the bar stool, landing on the kitchen floor with an echoing crash.

"Fuck!"

Laughing heartily, Logan picked up the rum and pulled a draught before addressing Remy, who was rubbing his ass with a confused expression on his face. "Good stuff there, don't blame yeh fer drinkin' as much as yeh can." Standing off the stool, he stared down at the slumped figure, "But drinking yer brains out, ain't helpin' Stripes. Now c'mon," grabbing Remy, Logan tried to drag him as quietly as he could back up the stairs. But when Gambit started to sing "I Feel Pretty" while slurring half the words, he gave up stealth as a lost cause and just tried to hurry and leave the kid in his bed.

"Logan? Is that you?" His head whipping around, Wolverine saw that Beast was poking his head out from his room, blinking heavily from behind his glasses.

Grunting, Logan hefted Remy so he had a better grip on the slurring mutant, then replied, "Yeah Hank, sorry fer wakin' yah up. Twinkle toes here decided that binge drinkin' was the way teh drown his sorrows, so I was just helpin' him along fer a bit."

Gazing at Remy with pity evident in his eyes, Hank nodded at Logan and held up a single claw, "Hold on one minute my friend and I will be happy to help you in your endeavor." After a few minutes, during which Logan could hear Hank rummaging around in his room, Hank reappeared wrapped up in his favorite robe with a pair of floppy bunny slippers wrapped around his abnormally large feet.

Straining to hold back the suddenly energetic Cajun, Logan focused on his teammates feet, "Nice bunnies there Beast."

"Why thank you Logan. Bobby got them for me as a present last Christmas. I didn't think purple would be my color, but obviously that Iceman has quite the eye." Chuckling, Beast moved to the other side of Remy, and grunting, hefted the drunken man's arm across his shoulder.

Remy's head lolled against Hank's shoulder, his eyes staring, unfocused on the mansion's doctor, "Wha' ya doin' here Beastie? Remy t'ought dat ya were working on getting' mon Roguey back." Exasperated, Logan caught Beast's eye.

"Sorry 'bout this Hank."

Gingerly, Beast took Remy from Wolverine and hefted him across his shoulders, turning towards the shorter, but just as hairy man, he carefully shrugged, "No, I understand. Remy is concerned about Rogue's well being. He cares for her deeply." For a minute, Logan could have sworn that Hank's cheeks burned a purplish color, "In fact, if I hadn't been in danger of falling asleep with volatile chemicals all around me I'd still be down there. My body simply required an hour or two of sleep." Shifting the heavy body into a more comfortable position, Hank nodded towards the subbasement elevator, "Now, let's move Gambit down to the infirmary for the night. He can sleep off his hangover here and be close to Rogue when he wakes up."

"Yeah…River Rat…sleep now…zzzz" Slowly Remy crashed against Hank's furry back, snoring loudly.

Eyeing Gambit's dozing body, Logan shook his head, "Who knew the Cajun could sing 'I Feel Pretty'?"

Lightly jostling Remy to and fro as he walked, Hank replied in a frank tone of voice, "I don't know, I thought his rendition was rather good considering his current state."

Together, the three of them took the elevator down to the subbasement. When the doors opened, Logan stepped out and held the door open for Hank and the drooling Remy. Moving down the silent corridor, the only sound was the occasional snore from Gambit; quickly, Hank and Logan made their way into the Infirmary.

The room was chilled, seemed like someone had come down earlier in the day and lowered the temperature. Walking over to the only other bed in the room, Hank gently lowered the intoxicated body of the resident Cajun on to the sheets. Ignoring the groans, Hank left him there and then moved on to the machinery surrounding Rogue while Logan adjusted the thermostat.

"Turn that up to at least seventy-five Logan, Rogue is covered in goosebumps. I know this is the coldest place in the Mansion outside of Bobby's room, but in the fifties? That's rididulous. I mean honestly, were they trying to freeze Rog…wait a second." At Hank's surprised tone, Logan forgot about the thermostat and walked over to stand beside him.

"What is it furball?" he growled, looking over Beast's shoulder at the gadget. He couldn't read a thing of it, but that didn't stop him from glancing at the dials and readout.

"It is strange. According to the machine, Rogue was active."

Uncomprehending, Logan stared at Dr. McCoy, "Active? Active how Hank?"

Turning the paper readout over and over in his furry paws, Beast glanced at the concerned look on Wolverine's face and shrugged helplessly, "I don't know my friend, but whatever it was, her activity wasn't harmful. Quite the contrary, if Rogue does not awaken on her own steam, the very fact that she produced some kind of action may aid in our quest of waking her." Looking closely through his spectacles, Beast blinked in astonishment, "Apparently, over an hour ago, probably roughly around the same time our culprit lowered the temperature in the room, Rogue moved, possibly spoke or made some kind of noise." Again Beast shrugged, "I'm sorry, the scanner could not detect anything definite."

A low growling sound echoed through the quiet room, the only sound that could be heard above the random beeping of the machines was a loud _SNIKT_ coming from Logan's direction. "When I find who was in here during that time," he snarled towards Beast, "They'll be wishin' that their fairy godmothers were gonna be here ta save 'em."

Calmly, Hank shook his head and replied, "Wolverine, I too would love to find the miscreants who were down here. If only for the sake of figuring out what it was that Rogue did. But instilling fear into the inhabitants of the mansion will get us nowhere."

Huffing, Logan crossed his arms and nodded his head in Remy's direction, "Yeah? Well, Gumbo woulda agreed with me." They both looked over Rogue's still bed to the one next to her which held Remy. He was dead asleep, snoring softly with a slow trail of slobber sloping down his cheek, his hand high above his head, his torso twisted and his legs bent awkward beneath his body. Under his breath, the two older mutants could barely make out what he was saying.

"Non Tante, Remy don' wanna go to Church, de priest smell funny. And all de old ladies be pinching Remy's cheeks, and it hurt Tante!" Then, suddenly a loud snort interrupted his mumblings and he tossed in the bed before settling down with his mouth wide open and his arms and legs spread eagle.

"Oh yes," Hank commented dryly, "Use the drunk and passed out Cajun as your defense."

Logan snorted, and glared at the sleeping body of the much younger man, "Why not? 'S not like he'll know I agreed with him in the morning." Shaking his head in despair, Hank checked his watch and his eyes widened.

"Logan my friend, I believe it would behoove us to get some sleep at the moment. We cannot do anything more for tonight. Tomorrow you have my word that we shall begin the mystery and discovering why Rogue moved at all." Resignedly, Logan nodded and started following Hank out of the door before stopping in front of Remy's bed.

Logan ignored Hank's pointed look and walked towards the head of the bed where Remy was resting. Leaning down slightly, so he could hear what the Cajun was saying, Wolverine's eyes flew open in shock before he looked straight at Beast, he recognized the song Remy was singing.

Spooked, Logan quickly backed up and made his way towards Dr. McCoy, who was giving him an odd look. "What is it? Did he say something?"

Shaking his head, Logan replied while staring at the dozing youngster, "Naw, but who knew that the Cajun liked show tunes that much?"

Curious, Hank's eyebrow raised in a questioning glance at Wolverine, "Oh? What was our good Acadian singing then?"

"'Keep it Gay', from The Producers. Don't ask me how I know that song, just know that I'll never watch a Mel Brooks movie with Jamie and Rahne again… too many sex related questions." Shuddering, Logan shoved past the chuckling Hank and made his way back to the main floor.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Rogue."

Tossing and turning lightly in her borrowed bed, her forehead beaded with gentle beads of sweat that cascaded down and smoothly into her hair, Rogue moaned softly.

"_Rogue."_

Coughing noiselessly into the night, Rogue shifted her head. Her sweat soaked auburn hair curling gently across the down pillows. Turning on her side, she unconsciously placed her right hand beneath her pillow cushioned head, her mouth open and a soft snore escaped.

"_DAMNIT ROGUE!_"

Gasping from shock, Rogue shot straight up in her bed. Well, it wasn't her bed. With her hand clutching her pounding chest, she gazed across the room; and winced at the sight. Though the room was dark, there was a balloon holding teddy bear nightlight tucked away in the corner, the three balloons grasped tightly in the bear's paw as well as its belly were lit up and the glow weakly spread towards the center of the room. Her bed was racecar shaped red with yellow racing stripes', zooming down the middle and it was covered in NASCAR sheets. Glancing down, Rogue relaxed slightly and released the sheets she had been clutching to her chest.

The door was along the wall parallel to the bed, and the dresser was on the opposite side, the same colors as the bed. But dotting the red and yellow dresser every so often, Rogue could see a multitude of stickers on the drawers, the sides and even the top. They ranged from Scooby-Doo to Dinosaurs and random Disney movies. Though it was the middle of the night, Rogue could tell that during the day the walls would be a pale green.

Leaning forwards, Rogue softly rested her hands in her palms and shook her head groaning to the teddy bear nightlight, "Primary colors…dinosaur stickers…racecar bed. Ah'm in a lil boy's room. Either that, or else Jamie decided that he needed a sleeping buddy again and somehow ah picked the short straw."

"Gee Chère, never pegged ya for a pedophile."

Shocked, Rogue glanced to her left, towards the anemic nightlight. There, standing just outside the shaft of light, was a shady figure. Silent, Rogue stared at the figure. It was the right height, the right build, the same accent and even…damn…the same eyes. There was even the twirling stream of grey smoke that was gradually rising towards the ceiling.

"Remy?" Rogue blinked heavily at the figure, desperately dragging the knuckles of her hands across her eyes to clear out the sleep. Quickly, she finished and stared across the darkened atmosphere to make sure that it was still there.

"Sho' t'ing Roguey. Quoi, was mon River Rat expectin' de Boogeyman?" Gracefully, the figure made its way towards Rogue's shivering body, crossing the room and gingerly seating on the edge of the nighttime accident proof mattress. Both winced at the sound of the mattress guard squeaking in the night before Rogue launched herself at his body and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and squeezed, a sob escaping her.

"Boo den."

Laughing shakily, Rogue pulled back, hiccupped and lightly smacked Remy's upper arm. "Shush, this ain't funny." Glancing around the room in case there was anyone else hidden away, Rogue looked at Gambit's amazing eyes, "Oh God, ah can't believe ah'm gonna say this but ah sure missed yah Remy."

Raising an eyebrow, Remy looked down at the auburn haired belle, "'Course ya did chère, de femmes all miss Gambit." Smirking gently down to her, Remy wrapped his arms around her body. Rogue sighed heavily as he pulled her pajama clothed body closer and held her to him, stroking up and down her back slowly in an effort to calm her down.

Muffled against his warm, strong body, Rogue breathed in the comforting scent of tobacco and rum. Not willing to disturb the calming feel of Remy, Rogue reluctantly interrupted the gentle caress of his hand up and down her back.

"Remy, what happened? One minute weh're in the subbasement with Kurt and Kitty, the next minute ah'm about tah join a friggin' _CONVENT_." Confused, Remy blinked down at the woman in his arms.

"Wha'chu talkin' about belle?"

"Yah, meh, Kurt, Kitty; Danger Room session? Wolverine? Weh were leavin' and somehow the last thang ah remembeh is hittin' mah head and wakin' up in a mountain range in the middle of winter with a bunch o' nuns."

Shaking his head side to side slowly, making sure that he kept eye contact with Rogue, Remy replied cautiously, "A nun, Roguey? Ya don' strike Remy as havin' a particular likin' for de penguin look."

"Not the point swamp breath!" growled Rogue, "What happened? Why is it every tahme ah have a headache ah'm suddenly somewhere else? First it was the nuns, last tahme it was Chicago durin' the twenties."

As she glanced up, Rogue was stunned to see that Remy's face wasn't as clearly defined as it had been a minute ago. "Remy?"

As from a distance, his voice came to her, "Remy don't know what's goin' on Anna, but ya need ta wake up." A sharp poke assaulted her ribcage, punctuating the words.

Shocked, Rogue stared at the hazy face of the mansion's Cajun heartthrob, "Anna? Ah neveh told ya that was mah name! And quit pokin' meh Gambit!" The poking sensation had increased even has Remy's face faded away from her sight.

"Gambit? Who's Gambit? Miss Anna, you need to wake up, Mommy said breakfast is ready."

Thrown out of her dream with the speed of a bullet, Rogue's eyes shot wide open. It had all been a dream. Sitting up in the racecar bed that Allison had shown her to last night, Rogue glanced at the foot of the bed to see a small figure staring, unblinking at her. Turning her head to the side, Rogue saw a pair of clear brown eyes that were watching her. They were attached to a small boy, roughly around Jamie's age when he first came to the mansion. His black hair was sticking up at weird angles, as if it hadn't been brushed yet and he was wearing well worn and scuffed jeans, sneakers and a bright red t-shirt.

The other figure down at the end of the bed was a girl, younger and smaller than her brother, with all of her mother's coloring and build. Her eyes were a hazel green color, almond shaped and piercing straight into Rogue's bright green ones. Her hair was her mother's, silky and a deep brown without a single tangle, it was held back with a purple headband. Her feet were surrounded with purple sandals that were made of a clear plastic and she was wearing shorts and a purple shirt that was dotted with various butterflies.

Grasping the sheets to her chest, Rogue looked at the children before her. They were obviously the kids that Amara and Roberto would have if they ever got married. Smiling gently at them, Rogue smoothly pushed her wild and bed tossed hair from her face, "Um, hi there. Ah'm Ro-Anna."

"We know, Mommy told us this morning when Daddy brought us back from Grandma's. I'm Anthony and she's Teresa." Tilting his head to the side, the boy pointed at Rogue's head, "Why's your hair all funny with that white stripe?"

_It's too early in the mornin' for this._ Fingering a lock of pure white hair softly, Rogue smiled at the kid, "Ah was born with it."

Nodding, he tucked his hands into his back pockets, "That's cool. I like it. Mommy made pancakes for breakfast 'cause she said that we had a guest. Daddy wanted us to come down and wake you up earlier, but Mommy wouldn't let us."

"Thank heaven for Mommy then. Listen sugah, why don' yah and yah sister go upstairs and tell yah Mommy and Daddy that ah'll be raght up? Ah've got tah get dressed first." Turning around, Anthony took his sister's hand and together they marched out of the room yelling at their parents.

Shaken from the abrupt wake up call, Rogue threw off the covers and swiftly strode to the door and shut it. If there was one thing she didn't want paraded around was that Miss Anna slept in only her panties and bra. Quickly she tugged on the pair of sweats that Allison had left for her the night before and then made her way towards the kitchen.

Before she stepped into the kitchen, Rogue was assaulted by the wonderful smell of pancakes being cooked on the griddle. Entering the sunny, warm room she noticed that at the table was the adult doppelganger of Roberto, right down to the curly pitch black hair that moved gently in the breezy atmosphere. His wife was over at the island in the center of the kitchen area flipping large pancakes onto several plates.

Stopping, suddenly shy Rogue raised her hand in greeting, "Um hi there. Ah'm Anna… D'Ancanto."

"Oh! Anna! Good morning, I do hope that the children didn't bother you too much." Rogue shook her head, smiling at the large plate of pancakes that Alli walked over to the table with and places before her as she sat across from her husband.

With a loud crinkle, he folded the paper and look across his kitchen table at the strange woman sitting before him. His brown eyes melted into a warm smile, "Morning, I don't know how much Alli told you, but I'm her husband Roberto Morales." He glanced at his wife, and thanking her, tucked into the tall stack of pancakes that she placed before him.

"Mornin' Mr. Morales, and thank yah for everythang. And ah jus' wanted tah let yah know that ah'm so sorry about jus' arrivin' on yah doorstep lahke this." Rogue replied, swallowing a thick bite of the syrup and buttery tasting mouthful. "It was kinda an accident."

Before her husband could comment, Allison cut in, "Oh, don't think a thing about it Anna. It was no trouble at all, we were happy to help someone in need."

Gazing wryly at his wife, Roberto commented, "And if Alli can't be a guardian angel to someone she explodes." Chuckling at the look she threw at him, he continued, "But honestly, we're more than happy to help you. And in case she didn't say anything about it last, though I'm sure Alli did, you can stay here as long as it takes for you to get home."

"Thank you, ah really appreciate this. Ah promise ah won' be here too long. Ah need tah be getting home pretty soon, jus' need tah get mah bearin's first."

"You must stay here at least for a few days." Alli said as she cut her pancakes into equal sized bites, making sure that each mouthful was drenched in the maple syrup, "There's such a big to do going on in the town right now."

Nodding along with his wife, Roberto continued, "That's true. It seems that our fair city is going to be the grandstand arena for some heavy stuff going on for the next few days. You came at the right time."

Breathing in the heavenly scent of freshly percolated coffee from the steam that was rising from the cup in her hands, Rogue shook her head, "Ah really need tah be getting' back home."

"But the city's blocked off."

Looking up from her plate, Rogue looked behind her at the sliding glass doors that led out to the backyard to see Anthony looking back at his parents and herself, "What do yah mean the city's blocked off sugah?"

"I dunno," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "that's just what Richie Cummings down the block told me. And his dad's a police officer. Coming into to town is ok, but he said that there might be some trouble getting out."

"Don' that just freakin' figure." She mumbled, slurping down the java in her cup before looking at Roberto and Allison, "Are there any back roads out of the town?"

Alli shook her head, "No dear, we don't have back roads around here. All the streets are pretty major." She smiled proudly and stated, "Our city's urban planners are some of the best in the state!" she looked to her husband and asked, "Bobby, don't you have some pull with the city though? Maybe we can get her out somehow that way."

Scratching his stubble free chin, Roberto commented to Rogue, "I'm on the city council. If anything major is going on, I know about it first." He then shook his head at his wife, "Sorry Alli, but I can't think of a way. Anna will just have to rough it out with us for a little while."

_Great, a few days with Amara, Roberto and their lil spawn. _Pasting a wan smile on her face, Rogue simply gulped down a larger than normal bite of pancakes and nodded.

Jubilant, Alli clapped her hands together, her eyes suddenly bright, "Excellent! This means we must go shopping," glancing quickly at her newspaper reading husband, Alli interrupted his perusal of the daily installment of Calvin and Hobbes, "Dear, think you can take care of Anthony and Teresa for a couple of hours? Anna simply needs some clothing since she'll be here a few days."

"What's wrong with just wearing sweats?" He asked, flipping down the top of the paper and gazing at his wife. Silently, Rogue agreed with him.

Alli huffed, "No! She needs new clothes! Besides, those sweats don't fit her properly."

"Dear, even when they were mine they never fit _me_ properly."

"We're going. Take care of the kids."

"Why can't you take Teresa with you at least?"

"Because I don't know how long we'll be gone and it'll probably be past her naptime."

Quietly Rogue sat between the debating pair and ate her pancakes while watching the exchange as if she were watching Forest Gump playing a ping pong match against a wall. Poor Roberto didn't stand a chance.

_Well ladies and gentlemen; it seems as if the match today is between the undefeated Champion of the Realm, Allison Morales vs. her one time winner husband Roberto Morales. Course that one time he won, she was half asleep and sick in bed with a cold. _

Finally, it was decided that Alli and Rogue would go shopping, despite Rogue's many protests; Roberto had to do some work around the house, so the kids were to go to their friend's down the block.

Slumping against the seat of Alli's SUV, Rogue let out a deep breath. No matter where she was or what freaky dimension she was in, Amara was still the same. Still the same overbearing, "Do what I say or else" princess. The weird part was that Roberto was just taking it, completely unlike the Roberto she knew.

Buckling herself in, Allison turned towards her guest, "So, any ideas where you might want to shop?"

"Well, ah was thinkin' that maybeh weh could go tah this one store that has-"

"Oh, I know! We'll hit my favorite store. They have the cutest things!" humming to herself, Alli switched on the ignition and pulled out of the driveway, ignoring Rogue's grimace of pain.

"Yeah…cute thangs…how nahce…" _Ah wonder if ah can ditch her once weh get tah the mall._

"Of course, and they have some of the most adorable things, a lot of them are in pink. But you like pink don't you? I know I do, it's one of my favorite colors and…"

A half an hour later and about twenty five minutes of that being an entire speech about the wonders of pink, Rogue finally stumbled out of the vehicle. "Fresh air, must breath quickly…" she gasped quietly in case Allison was listening as she gracefully let herself out of the car and dabbled on some lipstick.

Walking through the main part of the mall, Rogue looked around at each of the stores. In case she was able to ditch Allison for at least a little while, she wanted to know where the best stores might be in order to actually shop. Store after store, each one was like something out of a horror movie to Rogue. Light colors, soft fabrics and creamy lace as far as the eye can see. Right around the time when Alli dragged Rogue into a shoe store and tried to bully her into buying a pair of Mary Jane's did Rogue put her foot down.

"Look, Alli, Ah really appreciate what yah're doin'. But ah jus' don' think that this is what ah need. How about this, yah go off and take some tahme tah yahself, and ah'll go shoppin'. Weh'll meet back in the food court in a few hours?"

"Oh fine, I see how it is. I try and help a new friend out and this is the thanks I get? Wonderful." Huffing, Alli crossed her arms and pouted slightly. _Alrahgt, now that is jus' silly on an older woman. _

"Course not." Rogue replied, shrugging her shoulders and trying her best to imitate Jamie's patented winning smile, "Ah was jus' thinkin' that yah neveh get any tahme tah yahself. Yah know, with the kids and Roberto and the house…"

"Well if you put it that way…fine. There is something I've been dying to do for a while now." Suddenly her face lit up, dropping her arms to her side Alli grinned at Anna, "Alright, we'll meet at the food court in a few hours."

Snickering to herself, Rogue watched the alternate Nova Roman princess prance through crowds of people towards a sickening display of frills, ruffles and everything _pink_. _That was way too easy; same ol' Amara, she'll never change. Suck up tah her jus' a lil bit and ah'll be damned if she ain't putty in yah hands. _

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Rogue turned around and quickly made her way to the upper levels of the mall. On their way in she had spotted a store that was bedecked with all sorts of clothes in her favorite color, black, and there hadn't been a frill in sight. Not much, but a damned good starting place anyway.

Three hours later, Rogue was making her way towards where the food court was supposed to be. Her arms had several bags draped on them, each one filled to the brim with clothing. Hey, if she didn't have to foot the bill why not? Thankfully, after some intense searching, Rogue had managed to finally find a store that carried her favorite brand of fishnets and combat boots as well as some other brands that she loved back in Bayville.

_Alli is going to have a heart attack, but that's what she gets for making me sit in a car with her for over half an hour listening to Britney Spears over and over again. _Remembering the whiny, high pitched tones of the over age pop princess, Rogue gave a delicate shudder. Spotting a restroom, Rogue quickly ducked in to change her clothing. The sooner she was out of Roberto's old sweats and into some normal clothes the better.

Locking herself in a stall, Rogue dug through her bags; lifting out her brand new black leather mini skirt she clutched it to her chest and gave a sigh of happiness. _Thank yah God_. Soon she was bedecked in a dark green mesh three quarter length shirt with a black corset slowly squeezing the life out of her underneath it. Since the sleeves weren't quite long enough, Rogue had decided to splurge on some gloves, careful to find a few pairs that went halfway up her arm. No sense in picking up a few more personalities before she got home.

Stepping out of the stall and across to the mirror so she could get a better look at her new ensemble, she grinned at her reflection and lovingly smoothed down her fishnets. Then she frowned, something was missing. Dark red lipstick finished the look. Finally, she was back to her own self. No habits, no beaded, clunky dress. Finally satisfied, she left the bathroom after a getting a few odd looks from the Abercrombie and Fitch models that had just come in to primp. _Damn it's good tah be back. _

"_What the HELL did you buy?!" _

"Good tah see you again too Alli."

Rogue smirked at her host, her eyebrow practically rising of its own accord at the sight before her. Allison had apparently done some major damage to her checking account; the area around her chair was littered with bags of every size and color. She was poised in the middle of taking a bite from a rather sad looking eggroll her eyes huge with shock from seeing her new friend looking like she was ready to take a bite out of the local blood bank.

Hastily, Alli swallowed the roll before her then gaped at Rogue afresh, "Please, please, please, please tell me that you at least bought something _normal_ looking."

"Food." Growling lightly, Alli gestured to the trays of food before her.

"I bought Chinese for us, because everyone loves Chinese and I wasn't going to take a chance with anything else in this place. Can you believe there's a place here that sells fried food? Fried chicken, okra…God it's enough to drive a person straight to the ER."

Rogue struggled to restrain the impulse to strangle Alli, everyone loves Chinese? Rogue hated Chinese! Bad childhood incident with hot mustard and tofu, and there was no possible way she could ever look at a pair of chop sticks the same way ever again. "That sounds…"

Allison grinned around her mound of brown rice, "Amazing right? I just knew you'd say that!"

"Sure, ok, amazing." Southern fried chicken, sweet tea, corn, mashed potatoes…she could smell them all from the other side of the food court. Damn, foiled again. What's wrong with some good Southern cookin' anyways?

"Here, get some, "Alli handed her a plate piled high with sesame chicken, brown rice and two eggrolls, "and please tell me that you bought something suitable for…public." She eyed Rogue's mesh top and corset with the combined look of disgust and amusement.

Desperately gulping down a swallow of rice, Rogue mumbled something unintelligible out of the side of her mouth, trying to ignore the evil eye she was getting from her host.

"Because," and here Rogue realized that Alli's eyes were becoming starry as she stared off into space with a light sigh, "there's this ball that we all have to go to tomorrow night. And ohmygosh Anna, it's just going to be amazing! Anyone who's anyone is going to be there beca-,"

Glad to have an excuse to ignore her food, Rogue stared at Allison, "Wait, what? A ball? What do ah need tah go tah a ball? What about the kids? Don't you and Roberto need a babysittah? Ah can do that."

"Oh, Bobby and I have had one of the teenagers from down the street all set to sit for over a week, so that's no problem. And of course you have to come Anna! A party? There is nooo way you can pass up on a party!" she stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, her brown eyes rivaling Bambi's in size, "Besides, I already got Bobby to get an extra ticket just for you!"

"That's great…thanks Alli, yah shouldn't have."

Grinning widely, she dismissed Anna with a wave of her manicured hand, "It's no problem at all! Besides, possibly the hottest Hollywood star right now is going to make a guest appearance," practically panting with excitement she released a high pitched squeal, "Peter Lensherr!"

In the middle of biting into her stone cold eggroll, Rogue choked, _Pietro?_ Coughing, she gulped down a mouthful of water, "Peter Lensherr huh? What movies has he been in?"

"What?" Alli's eyes bugged in shock, "I'm sorry, I thought I just heard you ask what movies Peter Lensherr had been in." When Anna nodded slowly, Allison gasped as if in pain. "But, but…that's ridiculous! Where in the world have _you_ been?"

Smiling into her now chilled sesame chicken, Rogue replied, "Oh, here and there. Yah know, first a convent then ah was in the roarin' twenties savin' a bunch o' people from the government."

"Anna this is no joking matter! Peter Lensherr is the most popular, hottest, highest paid actor in Hollywood at the moment. How the hell can you not know?"

Rogue rolled her eyes, fully irritated by the idea of anyone hero worshipping Pietro Maximoff, "Look Alli, ah'm sorry ah haven't been keepin' up with the Jones' alraght? Ah've just been a bit, out of touch lately." _Ah guess that's the best ah can give her. God knows that the truth obviously didn't work. Ugh, Pietro? And ah thought it was bad with the Jean, Scott and Bobby wannabes in the twenties._

"Fine, besides that's not the important thing right now. Please, for the love of GOD, tell me you bought a dress that you can wear tomorrow night?" Rummaging through the multitudes of bags at her feet, Alli tossed four around before she apparently found what she was looking for. "Ah here we go! Look at this beauty Anna. I've been waiting for the right time to sneak out of the house and buy it."

Rogue had to admit, that for all her issues, Amara could definitely shop till she freaking dropped. The dress only had one strap, crossing her left shoulder, it was dyed a devastating crimson color that shook Rogue straight to her bones. It was almost identical to Remy's eye color. The back had two straps flowing from the singular one across her shoulder that would range across the back. It flowed as if it were made of water and felt just about as gentle to the touch.

"Oh mah god, Alli, that's beautiful." Slowly, Rogue reached out a gloved hand and ran her fingers along the skirt of the gown. Damn the gloves, she couldn't touch it! But she knew better than to take them off.

Smiling fondly at her new dress, Allison pulled it out of Anna's reach and tucked it carefully back into its tissue paper cocoon, "Yeah, isn't it? So I guess you didn't get a dress did you?"

"Alli, Ah had no idea ah would even _need _a freakin' dress. How could ah go out and get one? Ah'm not a mahnd reader." _Raght now anyways. _

"Fine, I guess we'll just have to go and get one for you after lunch. And don't worry; any clothes we get you can totally take back with you when you leave. I'm sure you'll find some use for them at home. Besides," she glanced appraisingly at Rogue's full figure and then down at her less than eye catching chest, "somehow I don't get the feeling we wear the same size."

Home. Rogue had totally forgotten about the mansion while she had been shopping! What in the world was she going to do? She couldn't call them, the phones were all down…wait a sec. Ignoring the way Allison was shoveling the congealed mall food into her mouth, Rogue wrested her attention from the spear of limp broccoli on her fork.

"Can ah use yah cell phone real quick?" With her Danger Room trained reflexes, Rogue had no problem grasping the tiny object that had just been chucked at her head. Swiftly she walked away from their table and over to a quieter part of the food court. Hopefully, everything hadn't been turned upside down and there was someone at the mansion that would know who she was, even if Amara and Roberto didn't.

Gliding her thumb over the keypad, Rogue punched in the numbers she'd memorized for the mansion and placed the earpiece against her head. "Pick up…pick up…" she chanted beneath her breath as she gazed around her at the people milling in the mall in the middle of the day. After ringing a few times it finally picked up.

"Thank you for calling Xavier's School for the Gifted, this is Ororo speaking, how may I help you?"

Rogue closed her eyes tightly as tears were slowly threatening to escape; she never thought she'd be so glad to hear one of the x-men's voices. Aw hell, she was just happy Bobby hadn't picked up. Gulping down a sob of relief, Rogue clutched the phone closer to her, "Storm? Storm! It's Rogue!"

"Excuse me? Who is this?"

"Rogue! R-O-G-U-E!" straining to hear anything on the other end, all Rogue could hear was the silence before Storm replied. There was no laughter of young mutants in the background or even anything breaking.

"I'm sorry miss, I don't understand. I believe you may have the wrong number."

"No, please! Storm! Just let meh talk tah the Professah!"

"I am sorry to inform you of this my dear, but the professor has been dead for quite a few years. And my name is Ororo, I am sorry if you have reached a wrong number. May you have better luck trying your call again. Have a wonderful day, goodbye." Pulling the phone away from her ear, Rogue stared at it as she realized belatedly that when she had left, Storm and the Professor had been away on a trip. There was no way Storm would have been at the mansion, or even not known who she was. And there was no way in HELL that the professor would be dead, especially not for YEARS.

_What the hell is going on?_

"Everything alright Anna?" Her eyes closed against the fighting onslaught of tears, Rogue nonetheless felt the reassuring pressure of Amara's hand on her shoulder. _But if Ororo didn't know meh, or even recognize the name Storm…then Alli can't be Amara, can she? What about Janet, Max, Billy and Roberto? Or even Mary Catherine for that matter, she'd been a dead ringer for Kitty._

_Can ah even get home?_

Unconsciously, Rogue remembered Mystique's training, "Never let your emotions show, emotions are a weakness." Pulling back her tear reflex, Rogue pasted on a small smile and quickly released the tension in her body before turning around and greeting her new friend cheerfully.

"Oh course ah'm alraght Alli. Hey, ah'm not really that hungry rahgt now, so how's about we go and look for a dress foh tomorrow? Ah'll even let yah pick out the first one that ah try on!" Rogue smirked at the squeal of joy, as Allison grabbed her upper arm and dragged her out of the food court, their bags swinging violently.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Groaning and straining to lever his body into an upright position, Remy opened his eyes to see the intense lack of color on the infirmary's walls.

"Damn, did anyone get the number on dat semi?" Moaning, he gingerly reached up and rubbed his forehead, trying to massage the dull throb pounding away behind his eyes.

"Well good morning to you too my inebriated friend."

Popping open one ruby and onyx eye, Remy saw Hank standing before him, tapping his food lightly on the tiled floor and a slight smirk in his eye. "Mornin' Beastie, but Remy ain't sayin' its a good un. What de hell happened last night?"

"It seems that you had decided that it was a good time to partake of-"

"Yeh got drunk Cajun."

Glaring at the hairy Canadian who had just walked in smirking at Remy's pain, Gambit grumbled as he gently massaged his temples, "No shit Wolvie, where else could dis mother of a hangover come from eh?"

Chuckling slightly, Hank moved over to the monitors connected to Rogue as Logan leaned against the doorjamb and stared at Remy.

"Yeh really don't remember do ya Gumbo?"

"Can' we just skip de lecture and cut to de part where someone get's Remy a handful of aspirin and some food?"

"Just as long as we don't have to watch West Side Story afterwards; didn't know you liked the movie so much Gambit." Taking a long pull on the cigar he'd had stashed in his pocket, Wolverine released the plume of smoke and chuckled at the blanched look of pain that had crossed his victim's face. Across the room, Gambit watched Hank as he focused on Rogue's computer readout.

"Hey Hank, how be my Roguey? Is she doing better?" Carefully, Remy moved to the side of his hospital bed before sliding off of it. Ignoring Wolverine's pointed look, Gambit slowly shuffled over to Hank as he desperately checked all of his pockets in vain for a pair of sunglasses. The florescent lights on top of the hangover were going to kill him.

Without looking behind him, Beast held out a Remy's sunglasses that he'd hidden in his lab coat pocket, "Here, I figured you might need this when you woke up." Grinning widely through his pain, Remy grasped his glasses and slid them on with a sigh.

"Ah merci Bête, ya're a saint."

Logan snorted, "Yeah, considering yeh woke everyone up in a five mile radius last night with yeh're warblin'. Hank here helped me schlep yeh're sorry ass down here."

Remy winced, "S'ry Henri, didn' mean ta wake ya." He shrugged, "Yest'day was a pain in de ass, so Gambit needed a lil' somet'ing to get 'im through de day."

"Oh, I'm sure. Gumbo yeh destroyed my best vodka and rum," In reply, all Remy did was flip a certain finger into the air towards Wolverine, not hearing the low growl in response, as he examined Rogue's prone form.

"Well, actually Remy, I must say it was almost serendipitous that I was there to help Logan carry you down here." Looking down at his clipboard, Hank checked a few items off before smiling up at the younger man, "Turns out that while you and Logan were busy and everyone else was sleeping, someone had come down here and turned the air down. But it seems that while they were here, Rogue exhibited some activity."

"Activity? What kind? When? Why de hell didn' ya wake me up!" Hangover completely forgotten, Remy was pissed. Something had happened to Rogue and they hadn't told him? Besides these two, he, Kurt and Kitty were practically the only ones in the mansion that cared about what happened to the comatose girl in front of them.

"Relax Swampy-"

"Wolvie, if you wanna test dat healin' factor o' yourn keep talkin'." Remy growled at Logan, an ace of spades flashing between his fingers, a faint magenta light dancing across the surface.

SNIKT "Bring it on croc bait; I've been dying for a good rumble." Quickly, Logan started to make his way towards Gambit, the look in his eye promising pain and lots of flying body parts.

With a low growl breaking its way from his body, Hank broke between the battling mutants. Placing a meaty paw against each man's chest he shoved, hard. "End this now you two! This pompous showing of male testosterone is NOT helping anyone, let alone Rogue." Once Logan had retracted his claws and Remy the charge in his card, Hank faced Gambit again.

"Now Remy, Logan and I would have happily woken you up earlier this morning, except for the fact that-"

"That you were drooling, slobbering, and singing songs from Broadway hits that- "

Glaring at his almost equally hair companion, Hank bared his teeth, "Logan, go get a beer." Shrugging, Logan tucked his hands into his pockets and made his way out of the infirmary humming a hauntingly familiar song under his breath.

Staring at the retreating back of the much shorter man, Remy had to ask, "Was he humming 'Keep it Gay'?"

Groaning, Hank dropped his head in his paw, "I beg you, please, let it be. It is better not to wonder about that."

"Fine, but what about Rogue? Remy don' care about Logan singing dat song, he cares about dis activity wit' Roguey. What was it?" Remy moved beside Rogue's unmussed bed and gently smoothed down her hair away from her face.

Standing across from Gambit on the other side of Rogue's bed, Hank held up the computer printout and waved it in the air, "That is just it comrade, when Logan and I came downstairs the computer was unable to detect exactly what kind of activity Rogue had exhibited, whether it was physical or mental."

"So, ya sayin' dat we don' know anymore dan we did befo'?"

"Not at all my friend," cheerfully, Beast removed his glasses and grinned at Remy, "we now know that Rogue is capable of bringing herself out of this coma without aid. The presence of activity means that her brain was not damaged by the collision caused by our resident Iceman. If given enough time, Rogue should come around on her own, there may not even be a need for a telepath."

Contemplative, Remy rubbed the back of his neck, a grimace of pain flashing across his normally expressionless face, "Ya mean we may not need de Monkey Man den?" Dieu, if he was Rogue, he would have woken up already, those beds were not the best thing for the neck and back.

"Well, I wouldn't count that plan out of the running just yet. But since I, personally, do not trust Mastermind to _not_ tinker with our good Southern Belle's head, then yes. We may not need him, which could possibly be the best thing for Rogue."

Partial silence reigned throughout the infirmary as Remy let the news sink into his head; the only sounds were the occasional beeps of the machinery and Hanks grunts as he read through the various charts at the end of Rogue's bed. Remy stood there, with his head bowed. For some reason, he had the oddest feeling that something had happened last night that he might want to remember. Glancing at the good doctor, Remy gently pushed his sliding sunglasses back onto his nose.

"Uh…Beast, did Remy do anyt'ing else last night besides singin' some chansons de Broadway?"

Looking up from his readouts, Hank thought for a minute, "I'm assuming that you also mean besides drinking the majority of Logan's finest libations as well?"

"Oui, besides dat." A furrowed line trenched across Gambit's forehead, displaying the unusual strain he was exerting. For the life of him, he couldn't remember a thing after falling off of a chair in the kitchen. That must have been when Logan and Beast had carried him down.

Beast shook his head absentmindedly, his attention quickly fading back to the charts and graphs, "No, I'm sorry Gambit. It was just the usual ramblings of a man who had indulged far beyond what was good, or in this case, bad for him."

"Merci Bête." Not waiting for a response, Remy stole one last look at Rogue's too pale, still face and walked quickly out of the room and towards the main part of the mansion. As he made his way towards the subbasement elevators that would lead to the living section of the X-mansion, a random feeling overtook Remy's body causing him to duck. But not fast enough.

A jarring slam against the steel wall of the subbasement was almost enough to drag a moan from Gambit. _Fuck, who de hell coulda got de drop on moi?_ Desperately trying to ignore the stabbing pain behind his eyes, Remy looked to see who had ambushed him and was currently holding him in a choke hold. As soon as he saw who it was, he swiftly closed his eyes and silently cursed all the luck in the world.

Even more aggravating was the knowledge that he had just felt his glasses being yanked off of his head as well. "Bonjour Mystique. Two visits in two days, really didn' know ya cared so much."

"Shut up Cajun. And didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to wear your sunglasses indoors?" The woman standing before him was not the same figure as the blue skinned woman who he had battled with the other day; this one was tall, leggy and blonde with bright green eyes. Besides the malicious smirked pasted on her face that was the only reason he knew who it was, those were Rogue's eyes that she had stolen.

"Never really had a mère," Nonchalantly, he looked down at the glare she was sending his way her long fingernails barely cutting into his throat, cocking his head gently to one side, Remy leered at her, "always wanted one t'ough, ya want de job? Mean, s'not like ya really spend a lot o' time wit' yo' other boys, right?"

Hissing in anger, she released him and backed off to lean on the other side of the hallway, her skin blurring rapidly till Mystique was her usual blue hued skin color and red hair. "Don't you dare bring them into this LeBeau."

He smiled easily, the tiny lacerations on his throat ignored, "Course not, wouldn' dream o' it." Leaning against the wall he'd be shoved into, Remy smoothed down the wrinkles in his trench coat and reaching into one of the many pockets found something he'd been craving since waking up in the infirmary. Sighing lightly, he stuck a cigarette into his mouth and carefully touched the tip.

Pulling a long drag on the end, Remy let lose a slow plume of white smoke before focusing on the bitch in front of him. "So ta what do we owe de pleasure Raven?" asked Remy. If he wasn't still hung over, he would have sworn that Mystique had a distinctly uncomfortable look about her, not only that but he could feel the waves of anxiety rolling off of her.

"I simply wanted to see my daughter." She stated, then smirked at Remy, "a _mother's_ prerogative, I'm afraid that you wouldn't understand."

Shrugging his shoulders uncaring, Remy asked her, "How de hell did ya get past de Wolverine?"

"It was hardly the effort, one of your mini x-wannabes opened the door, some blonde haired, blue eyed make believe Don Juan," Suddenly glaring at nothing in particular, Gambit's cigarette instantly burned all the way down to the filter, "ridiculously easy to flirt with. I believe he's called Iceman?"

Checking his floundering emotions, Gambit raised one cool eyebrow towards the terrorist as he pushed off of the wall and moved down the corridor back towards the sickbay, "Oh, ya mean de boy dat put ya daughter in de coma in de first place?" Remy didn't care any longer if Bobby Drake lived or died, bloody nose or not he still owed him for Rogue. And really, what better way than to send in a pissed off mother who just happened to have extensive arms training and was one of the most feared mutant terrorists around?

Hearing softly clicking heels behind him quietly fade down the hall, Remy cursed out loud, turned quickly on his heels and, passing the elevators, ran up the emergency stairs. Screw Iceman, but if Wolverine found out that he had sicced Mystique on Bobby, there wouldn't be enough pieces of him left over to fertilize the garden.

Dashing past a surprised Sam, Jubilee and Rahne, Remy left them gaping behind him as he ran through the house searching for Bobby; he knew there was no use looking for Mystique, damn shapeshifter. Turning a corner though, Gambit nearly fell to the ground and kissed it.

"Why the hell do ya look like someone just stole your bike, Gumbo?" Logan was standing in the hallway, a beer in his right hand and a sneer gracing his face at the sight before him.

"Let's just say Wolvie dat, we may need ta do a bit o' rescuin' real quick. Stupid Ice Prick."The last he murmured as quietly as he could manage, trying to make sure that Logan didn't hear a thing. Suddenly, a startled shout echoed through the house. Holding up his empty hand to stall Gambit's explanation, Logan's nostrils wavered on some hidden scent.

"Mystique."

"Ah, oui, Remy was just getting' ta dat. See, de bitch got into de mansion-"Remy inwardly flinched at the cold hard stare that was shot his way.

"How," Logan snarled at the younger man, but then he stopped and sniffed the air again, "Bobby."

"Now see Wolvie, dat's just plain weird." Hesitantly, Remy backed off, his hands fixated in the air as Wolverine moved towards him his claws fully extended and pointed in his direction, "What de hell Logan?"

Standing toe to toe with the Cajun, Logan stared his straight in the eye, "When this is over punk, I wanna know why the hell Mystique went for the Popsicle, got it?" He then turned around and flat footed it towards the rec room, where any and all could tell the yelling and screams were coming from.

Frustrated, Remy slapped his forehead, "Dis is not de way dis day was supposed ta happen."

Entering the rec room, Remy almost laughed out loud at the sight that greeted him. Bobby had apparently climbed the curtains in desperation and was now clinging to them and shouting for help. Mystique was standing below him, pacing back and forth, a bowie knife in her hand; Remy really didn't want to know where she had hid that little piece of hardware. Logan was standing on the opposite side of the room, his hands still out with the claws where all could see.

"Mystique, let the boy down he's not worth the trouble."

A sharp, "Hey!" came from Bobby's corner, but Mystique had temporarily let him out of her sights, so he released a stream of sub zero ice forming a slide on the other side of the room and slide on it to safety. But Remy could tell that his survival instinct really hadn't kicked in because he stayed around to see the action.

Turning to Logan, Mystique's yellow eyes visibly glowed and narrowed, "Wolverine. I had no idea that Charles was still letting you around the children. Find the joys of being a pedophile too much to pass up?" as if shocked with a couple hundred jolts of electricity, Gambit jerked backwards in shock. Ignoring Iceman's, "Dude, you ok?" Gambit merely shook his head in thought.

_Why de HELL would de word pedophile do anyt'ing ta moi?_ For some reason he had the odd feeling that it was in some way connected to Rogue. _Roguey…_confused, but unwilling to think further on it, Remy instead focused on the mini-war happening in the den before him.

"Back off Logan, that sad excuse of a child is _mine_," Raven hissed violently, her attention once again back on Iceman, attention which he seemingly noticed because Remy had to choke back the gasp of fear that his empathy seemed to suddenly pick up, "He injured _my daughter_, I have only come for what is my due."

Growling low in his throat, Logan moved into a fighting stance, "Yeh daughter eh? Funny, she doesn't want anything to do with you lady. Yeh might have been better off becoming a nun instead of having kids, could have always blended in with the penguin look." With a raging snarl, Mystique shifted into the form of a leopard and leapt at Logan, all claws extended.

Stumbling back slightly, Gambit clutched his head. For some reason, beyond the annoyance of his unending hangover, there was the echo of a headache from something else entirely. Dispassionately, he stood against the door jamb, watching the two mutant titans battling it out throughout the entire room. _Wonder how much de prof is gonna have ta shell out ta fix it dis time. _

Not noticing the obvious pain his teammate was in, Bobby Drake grinned up at the older man beside him, "Geez, and all this over me? Man, Jubes is gonna have a field day! Wait till I tell her!"

Numbly, Remy glanced down at the boy and shook his head, "Listen Ice Prick, ya don' wanna be around when dey finish, comprends?"

"Huh?"

Sighing heavily, Remy rubbed the bridge of his nose in resignation, "Run." When Bobby had sprinted off to safety, Remy once again watched the carnage before him.

Between the two of them, Wolverine and Mystique had managed to tear apart the couch, the chairs, rip all the books from the shelves and rend the shelves themselves apart. The carpets were torn up from the ground and the entire room was littered with stuffing and feathers from the cushions and pillows. At least they had left alone the TV.

_CRASH_

Never mind.

Leaning with his arms crossed, Remy watched as Mystique launched herself at Wolverine who quickly twisted around and threw her against the wall. By now, the noise had traveled through the rest of the mansion and Remy wasn't the only one standing on the sidelines watching the fight. He had been quickly joined by Sam, Rahne, Jamie, Tabitha (who was visiting Jubilee and Amara), Jubilee and Bobby.

"Ten bucks says Wolverine wins."

"Psh, Mystique. She's pissed and who knows where she stashes her guns?"

"Anyone else think Mystique is hot?"

"Bobby that's just wrong!"

_Dat's it…_"If anyone cares, Remy be goin' down ta de sickbay ta visit Rogue." _And Beast._ Quickly, Mystique shifted back to her original form and stayed crouched for a minute on the ground breathing heavily.

"Wait LeBeau, I came to see my daughter." Glaring at the New Mutants, Raven smiled coldly, "I shall have a _chat_ with Mr. Drake later." Nodding to Wolverine, Mystique led the way down to the subbasement leaving all behind her, save Remy, with their jaws dropping.

Glaring at the enemies' retreating back, Logan shifted his sights from her to the audience he had attracted, "What the hell are you starin' at?" Chuckling, Remy saw that within a minute the now destroyed room was empty of all but him and Wolverine.

"That was includin' you Cajun."

Pointing to himself, Remy pasted on his best innocent look, the one that'd even had the power to get his Tante to melt when he was younger, "Moi, Monsieur Wolvie? What'd Gambit do dis time?"

"Cut the crap Gumbo, I want answers. Why the hell did you tell Mystique that Iceman was the one that caused Rogue's accident? You knew what would happen."

Fighting the smirk dying to cross his face, Remy turned away so he wasn't facing Wolverine, "Remy don' have a clue what ya talkin' about Wolvie. " A low chuckle wafted across the room followed by the heavy tread of footsteps.

Feeling a hefty weight on his shoulder, Remy figured that Logan had rested his hand there, "Go, make sure Mystique doesn't steal yeh girl away under Beast's nose." He fought the urge to throw off Logan's hand, but figured that since he rarely made physical contact with anyone, let alone the former Acolyte, he would make the effort.

He ignored the "his girl" comment and padded away smoothly towards the basement, before turning around at the elevator after pushing the button to bring it to the ground floor. "Hey, Wolvie?"

Logan had retrieved his beer from some undisclosed hiding spot and was in the middle of chugging the rest, "What is it now Cajun?"

"Last night, when ya and Bête went down ta de infirmary, was it cold?"

"Yeah, but you couldn't remember that, you were out." He replied, "Why?"

"Nuthin', was Jamie down there too?"

Now confused, Logan stared at Gambit's back, "Course not Cajun, the shrimp was in bed."

Softly beneath his breath, Remy murmured, "Of course," louder he said to Logan, "t'ought so, jus' t'ought dat someone mentioned him last nuit." Then he entered the elevator car and pressed the down button. Closing his eyes against the incessant pounding against his temples, Remy tried to remember.

_Was it just cold in my dreams? T'ought dat Remy felt it too, cold…so cold, even her skin was cold…skin? What skin? Whose skin? Rogue's? And where does Jamie come into dis? De room…said dat dey t'ought dat Jamie needed a sleepin' buddy…_

With a subdued _DING_ the elevator doors opened and, opening his eyes, Remy swiftly turned left and moved down the corridor towards the sickbay. Entering the quiet room, he saw Hank standing against the wall watching his patient intently as her foster mother fussed over her. Silently, he made his way to stand next to the burly blue doctor.

"Hello again my Acadian friend. To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure? I had thought that once you had left this morning it would be quiet sometime before you could bring yourself back." Remy shook his head slowly.

"Sorry Beast, dis time it ain't fo' de pleasantries." His interest piqued, one bushy eyebrow arched upwards, and Hank's arms uncrossed.

"Then maybe we should continue this scintillating conversation in my office where we may have the pleasure of some…privacy." Moving away from the wall, he gestured towards his office which had the added bonus of being encased in bullet proof and soundproof glass.

Whipping her head towards the two men, Mystique scowled in disgust, "Oh please, it's not as if you're discussing anything vitally important to some ridiculous little mission. It's about Rogue and I deserve to know."

Stopping Beast before he replied back to her, Remy shrugged, "Too tired ta care mon ami, right now Remy jus' wanna figure dis out."

Pulling up two chairs from his work table across the room, Hank sat in one and motioned for Remy to sit in the other. Crossing his legs and digging a well kept claw into his lab coat, he pulled out a slightly squished Twinkie. Unwrapping it, he chewed a large bite before waving his claws in the air, "Go ahead Gambit, this must be important for you to come to me."

Sitting lightly on the chair, Remy dropped his face into his hands and breathed deep. He was tired, he had a killer migraine for a hangover and now he was trying to remember something he was sure he had only dreamed about. He sat back and rubbed the back of his neck for a minute, "Well, seems dat Remy don' remember too much o' last night."

A poorly muffled snort drifted across the room, "Hmph, probably banging some bimbo and throwing back shots while my Rogue here was wasting away. That's the last time I try and help you with anything…" Remy ignored the mumbled ramblings of Mystique, but he couldn't quite suppress the twinge of guilt in his stomach that he had been throwing back shots while Rogue had been lying in a hospital bed.

"Anyways," he glared at Mystique, no one made him feel guilt but _him_, "somehow, get dis feelin' dat Remy had a dream last night and my Roguey was in it. Talked ta her…it was très weird." Staring off into space for a minute, he switched his gaze back to Hank, "'Mean, Remy can remember her sweet accent pretty damn well, but dis was perfect! And 'could smell her too, feel her, she was cold. She was tellin' moi dat she couldn' remember how she got dere…wherever dere was." Shooting a pleading glance at Beast, Remy practically begged him, "S'il vous plait Beast, ya gotta believe moi."

Turning away from her vigil by Rogue's bedside, Mystique stalked up to him and looked him up and down, "The ramblings of a desperate man." She put her hands on her hips and smirked at the flash of anger that crossed his face.

"Are not."

"Obviously they are; you, my dear pathetic, lowlife Cajun, had no mental abilities that could possibly lend you such a capability to communicate with my dear Rogue."

"Yeah well, ya mother." Pissed off, Remy grabbed the first thing he came in contact with, which just happened to be Hank's "Kiss the Doc" coffee mug that the kids had gotten for him for his birthday last year, charging it up he prepared to pitch it her way.

"Cease! This is ridiculous. Now Raven," turning towards the irate blue skinned woman, Hank tried to placate her, "I know our teams are not on the best of terms, but for once and for the sake of Rogue, can't we just work together?" Both parties looked at Beast in astonishment. Drawing the charge back into his hand, Remy placed the mug back onto the desk.

"What'ver."

"If I must…for the time being."

Smiling, Hank flashed a bit of fang as he spoke in excitement, "Well, now as it just so happens, Remy does have the ability. Albeit inherit and not all that easy to control, it is quite possible that it got away from you last night thus leading to your brush with Rogue."

Angry, Mystique stared at him, "Beast, usually I have a limited amount of confidence in your skills on a good day. But today isn't that day, spit it out."

Sighing in frustration, Hank wearily pushed his glasses up on top of his head. Might as well sit back for the long haul then, this might take a while, "Well, in Layman's terms really, Remy it's your empathy." Blank looks were his only reply. Growling softly, Hank scooted his chair over to the work table and grabbed Remy's chart.

"Look," he showed a chart filled with numbers and dots to the uninterested pair, "I only got a very limited look at your capabilities Remy, but I must say they are astonishing. Though not a classic telepath by any means, as an empath, you have the ability to tap into any emotion that is humanly possible." Flipping through the pages, Beast got more and more excited with every new graph and chart, "And since Rogue is in a state where the only method of communicating in within her mind, I suppose that her emotions got the better of her, possibly tapping into one of her psyches's telepathic ability and thus drawing you."

"So Remy ain't crazy?"

Mystique rolled her eyes and caressed the knife strapped to her thigh, "That's yet to be determined Cajun."

"Remy wasn' askin ya," Sticking out his tongue childishly, Gambit refocused his attention onto Hank. "Did Remy talk ta my Rogue den?"

"Yes, for simplicity's sake. But it truly does not do a lot of good since we do not have a telepath and it appears as if you are only able to tap into this new latent ability when asleep. But that would explain the odd flurry of activity was that seen this morning." His eyes twinkling mischievously, Hank struggled to hide his smile, "It appears, my friend, as if you may be spending a few of your nights here in the near future."

"WHAT?" Mystique screeched, indignant, "There is no way in HELL that inbred gator fodder is sleeping anywhere near my Rogue!"

Gambit smirked at her, his eyes glowing with satisfaction, "Et why not? C'mon Mystique, qui sais? Ya may already be a grandmère. Afterall, Remy did sleep down here last night." Ignoring Hanks weary shake of the head, Remy kept his gaze on Mystique. If she noticed that he switched glances right now, any chances of actually having kids would be forgotten.

Holding his stance, Remy didn't bat an eye as Raven walked toward him, one of her many hidden knives clenched tightly in her fist and pointed in his direction. "If you have touched her," came the growl, "what parts of you they find won't be enough to tell how you died."

Stepping between them, Hank gently pushed Remy to the side and forced Raven to look him in the eye, "I can assure you Mystique, that Remy was a perfect gentleman last night. I was down here the entire time." Opening the door to the hallway, Beast kindly gestured through the door way, "And I'm sorry to do this, but now that we have found a possible communications point, Remy and I truly need to begin our research. If you would please…?"

Holding her head high, Mystique squared her shoulders and walked sedately out of the sickbay, Hank followed behind her but not before shooting Remy a glare. Chuckling, Gambit made his way to Rogue's bedside and sat in Mystique's chair. Running his fingers through his unkempt hair, he glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, groaning to see just how early in the day it still was. Turning back to the girl before him, Gambit studied her slowly. Carefully, though he still had his partial gloves on, Remy ran the very tips of his fingers along Rogue's bare arm, enjoying the jolting sensation that coursed through his body at the touch. _At least maintenant, Remy knows why he's been feelin' so fou t'day. Figures it would have ta be because o' ya Roguey. Jus' wish Remy could remember more o' our talk chèrie. _

_BAMF_

"Vere is mein mutter?" A second behind the noxious scent of sulphur, Kurt popped his elfin head around and glanced as if trying to figure out where his mother would be hiding, "Sam said that she vas here to see Rogue."

Focusing purely on the silken texture of Rogue's skin, Remy commented to Kurt as he continued to stroke her arm slowly, "Oh, oui, she was here. A lil' visit, some maiming, a room destroyed and then she's gone. De femmes, right mon ami?"

Nightcrawler snorted as he sat on the foot of the bed, "Please Gambit, I am not stupid." He was silent for a minute and then turned his golden eyes towards the man watching his sister, "Jubilee said she tried to kill Bobby." His tail twitched from side to side in suppressed agitation watching Remy's attentions to his sister.

The hum of the machinery was all the saved the room from being deathly quiet. Then Remy raised his head and shrugged, "Yeah, so? Woulda happened sooner or later."

Nodding his head slowly, Kurt gently touched Remy's shoulder with the spade of his tail, "Thank you, mein Freund." They sat like that in silence, just content to be alone together. Half an hour later, Beast strolled back in and smiled at Kurt.

"Ah, Guten tag Mr. Wagner. Come to see your sister today then?"

"Ja."

Walking over to his spare lab coats, Hank pulled one on that wasn't smeared in Twinkie filling, "Good, we have a new development that we're going to test out today. Are you ready Gambit?" Tearing his gaze away from Rogue's ashen form, he looked at Beast and Kurt's hopeful faces and nodded.

"Wonderful! Let's try and wake our sleeping beauty."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Frustrated with her hair, Rogue tugged on the chestnut curls that were falling from her carefully crafted hairdo. Tilting her head to the side, she studied herself in the mirror. She hated getting all dolled up; it was like turning herself into a My Size Barbie for the night. Which unfortunately appeared to have been Amara, or Allison's favorite toy once upon a time.

Clapping her hands together in joy, Allison smiled into the mirror at the sight they made. Alli, wearing her crimson dress, had her dark brown hair piled high upon her head with stunning diamond and ruby clips placed strategically throughout giving the effect that her hair practically glowed. Her makeup was simple, yet dramatic, emphasizing her pouty lips.

After being dragged all around the mall several times, Alli had yanked Rogue into one last store before the mall had closed. The clerks had been rude and the doors partially shut, but one look into that abyss of fabrics and Rogue came upon THE dress. It had been tucked away in the back, wrapped in that annoying clear stuff that dresses usually come in under the clearance section. And that was only one reason why she loved it. It was cheap. Ignoring the clerks, Alli had shoved Rogue into a dressing room with the gown and had barricaded the door till she tried it on.

Now standing beside the preening Allison and looking at herself in the mirror, Rogue reluctantly admitted to herself that this night might just be worth the trouble. Her dress was, a little unorthodox, to say the least. But Alli hadn't said anything bad about it, so Rogue figured that her squeals and the resultant jumping up and down was a good thing. Studiously ignoring Alli's primping beside her, Rogue twirled experimentally for the mirror to see how her dress moved. Though her colors usually ran towards green and black, this dress was neither. It was a mix between a champagne color and gold; a halter top, the strings wrapped around her neck twice before being tied and still the ends draped past far past her back. The neck plunged farther than she was used to, but the effect was just enough to tantalize, not to shock. The most shocking thing about the entire dress was that, along her torso, the fabric was cut slantwise flashing her lower midsection and bellybutton before rejoining the rest of the dress at her right hip in a little keyhole. It was scandalous and flashed the creamy skin of her left hip, but overall was not tasteless. The rest of the dress fell in close folds down her to feet, which were strapped in gold heels which laced half way up her calf.

It showed more skin than she was really used to, but for once there was a way around the whole power issue. Enter body stockings. Once Rogue had managed to convince Alli that exposing so much was bad, the miracle solution had presented itself. After she had explained the situation to one of the clerks, they had been presented with a sheer, skin toned body stocking that would completely cover the body and yet give the impression of bare skin.

For the rest of her ensemble, Alli had insisted on taking Rogue to a stylist. After an involved lecture about the atrocities of dying any part of such a beautiful head of hair, or even bleaching a part of it, the end result was nothing short of amazing. The entire jumbled mess had been carefully swept up into a strategically curled pile on top of her hair, where it was held in place by a large, fake magnolia blossom ("For that Southern touch dear, it'll look amazing with your coloring! And your voice!"), gently, pieces of her hair were curled and pieced in such a manner as to appear like they were falling when in reality they held so much hairspray, Rogue swore that she had opened a mini ozone hole right above her head. Gloves that matched her dress perfectly covered her arms from fingertips to elbows.

Her makeup was simple, and as understated as Allison's. Only it emphasized her deep green eyes, which Alli claimed would cause them to freeze a man at twenty paces. Shaking her head slowly, so as to not disturbed her own painstakingly crafted coif, Allison stared at Rogue, her voice drenched in awe, "If I hadn't seen you just the other day I swear to God Anna, I wouldn't know who you are now."

Startled, Rogue stared at her in shock. Empty headed she may be, but Alli had a point. Who was she now? This carefully decorated piece of china before her, the peaceful Sister Anna Marie, or the rough and tumble Rogue? Did it matter? Would any of this matter if she couldn't get home?

Turning towards Alli, Rogue waved her gloved at her outfit, "Are yah sure that yah and Roberto want meh there? Ah could take care o' the kids." She swallowed thickly and pasted on a grim smile, "Ah…love kids."

Alli had bent over so that she could see the outline of her mouth better as she reapplied her lipstick for the third time, stopping in mid swipe, her eyes widened and she laughed. "Are you kidding? Bobby usually ends up talking to some up and coming politician and I get stuck with his equally stuck up wife. This way I have someone to make fun of all the old fogies with."

As if just saying his name was a magic charm, Roberto appeared in the doorway and rocked back and forth on his heels as he viewed the sight before him, "My, ladies, you look amazing!" Smiling widely at her husband, Alli grabbed her clutch from the foot of her bed and walked over to her husband. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he whispered something in her ear causing her to release a high pitched giggle. Making sure she had her wrap and clutch, Rogue followed along behind them, but as they rounded the corner before the stairs though she swore she could have heard Roberto mutter to Alli, "Remind me, where's my gun? Wanna make sure all those jackasses keep their hands to themselves tonight…" Raising her hand to her glossed mouth, Rogue stifled her chuckle as Amara smacked Roberto upside the head.

Once they had checked with the babysitter for the hundredth time whether or not she knew where the numbers to the doctors was, their cell numbers, their grandmother's home and cell number, the number to the CDC…every number on the face of the planet, they were finally ready to go.

Making her way outside, Rogue skirted the toys on the lawn as she made her way towards one of the cars parked in the driveway. "Anna! Where are you going dear?" Turning towards the street, her jaw dropped as she saw Alli get into the black limo that was parked alongside the curb. Stunned, she stumbled over a rubber ball before straightening and making her way towards the vehicle. Living with the professor had made her all but immune to flashy pieces of wealth, but a limo? That was something new.

Roberto smiled merrily her way, and holding the door open he gestured to the interior as she walked towards them. "Nice eh? Alli and I don't get a chance to do this often, c'mon Ms. D'Ancanto." Stunned, Rogue gently slid in on the leather seating and had to bite back a moan. _If only Kitty could see meh now! _Kitty had always talked about how, for her prom, she had wished that Lance had rented a limo for the night. Comfortable, she leaned back and accepted a bottle of water that Roberto handed to her. Slowly the limo pulled away, and silently moved down the street and into traffic.

"Thank yah." After gulping down a long pull of water, Rogue looked at Roberto again, this time curious, "So, Alli didn't tell meh much. But what is this fo' again?"

Exasperated, Alli put down her own water and turned towards her husband, "Bobby, I told Anna that-"

Smoothly, Roberto ran his hand along his hair, making sure that everything was in place as he answered Rogue, "Well, technically it's a function in order to help orphans or something…no one can really ever keep the damned purpose straight. Not even the organizers, they do these things so often anyways. "Winking across Rogue at his wife, he continued, "But, if you ask anyone the real event is that Peter Lensherr is supposed to be coming."

Huffy, Amara crossed her arms in front of her chest as she crossed her legs and began bouncing her foot in irritation, "That's what I _told_ her. But she said that she'd never even heard of Peter Lensherr!" she whined.

Fascinated, Rogue watched this exchange as Roberto quickly rolled his eyes and, reaching over to the mini bar along the side of the limo, poured himself a glass of red wine. Taking a deep sip of it he sighed and faced his wife, "Honey, you have to come to grips. Not everyone drools over movie star magazines like you do." Taking a second sip, he reached across their laps and gently rubbed his hand up and down Allison's leg in a placating motion, "Anyways, that's not the big story tonight. Apparently, Mr. Lensherr's been having some security problems lately. Something about some threatening notes or whatever, anyways, he demanded that security be raised."

Rogue watched Alli out of the corner of her eye. Somewhat mollified by the news, Alli perked up and quickly took her compact out of her clutch and was touching up her makeup again. Surprised, Rogue turned her head fully and asked, "Um, what are yah doin' Alli? Didn' yah fix yah makeup lahke twelve tahmes befo' we left?"

After dabbing on some more powder and checking to see that her lipstick had been chewed off completely yet, Alli snapped the mirror shut and tucked it away, "Of course, but if there's going to be more security then there'll be more paparazzi! We could get our pictures taken!" Wryly, Roberto caught Rogue's eye, and draining his glass, he raised on eyebrow as if to say "_What, and you're surprised?" _

Apparently, the function hall was not that far away from the Morales's home because it wasn't fifteen minutes later that the limo slowed and finally pulled to a stop. Roberto hopped out, but allowed the driver to help Rogue and Alli. If the poor man's reaction to Rogue and Alli when they stepped out was any indication then they obviously looked better than Rogue previously thought. His eyes fair bugged and almost rolled into his head before Roberto nudged him roughly in the side.

"Alright Sam, back off. Let the women breathe." Turning his back on the hyperventilating blonde youth, Roberto cordially held his arm out for his wife, who took it with a small giggle. Mouthing "Sorry" to Mr. Guthrie, Rogue followed along behind Roberto and Allison. The carpet was red, _how friggin cliché_, but the walkway other than that was beautiful. Decorated in thousands of tiny lights along the crawling vines over head, the warm night air seemed to shimmer. Inside, the room was warm and inviting with music wafting gently through, surrounding the couples that were talking throughout the chamber. But there was at least once person who was unaffected by the calming atmosphere; once the trio had discarded their wraps and things, Alli turned to her husband, her lips pursed in annoyance.

Tossing her immovable hair, Allison threw her hands on her hips and shot a deadly look at her nonchalant husband, "I thought you said Peter Lensherr was going to be here 'Berto." She'd quickly looked around when they had first arrived, carefully watching for a glimpse of his telltale bright blond hair somewhere in the crowd, but couldn't find him anywhere.

Thrusting his hand into his dark hair and messing up his formerly immaculate 'do, Roberto glared at his snarling wife, "Not now Allison, we just got here ok?"

Rogue glanced around the dance floor, trying to find an escape route. Normal arguments she could handle, but marital spats? Psh, not in this lifetime; she may sometimes hear voices in her head but that didn't make her crazy. Edging away from the glaring couple, Anna tossed her thumb out behind her, "Uh, ah'm gonna just go that way 'k guys? Yeah…" then, turning tail, she dashed across the room to the bar. Sentinels, yes. Magneto, ok. Mystique…not the best example, but sure. Those she could handle, a raging Amara and Roberto were not included.

The bar was a large wrap around counter that extended a good across a good part of the wall. The bartender was a beefy looking man who seemed as if he might have been more comfortable on the back of a Harley, but he was serving the drinks quickly and with a skill that left Rogue eager for a night of drunken blindness. Hiking her skirt a little, she settled onto one of the few unoccupied seats and gestured for the bartender.

Smiling a little at the much larger man, she batted her eyelashes, "Hi, ah'd lahke a Southern Comfort and coke please" she purred.

"I.D." he replied, unimpressed. Rogue eyed his tattooed biceps and gritted her teeth, she wanted this drink damnit if it was the last thing she did tonight.

"What, ah don' look twenty-one tah yah," glancing at his nametag, Rogue desperately fought a snicker that threatened to escape as she kept her eyes trained on the man before her, "Casper?"

"I.D."

Frustrated, Rogue slammed her gloved fist on the counter, ignoring the shocked gazes of the other people along the bar, she leaned forward and growled at Casper, "Ah've been drinkin' probably since before the last tahme yah got laid, just gimme a friggin' SoCo and Coke!" So much for being Casper the Friendly Bartender, _bastard_.

"I'd do as the lady says and get her that drink, Casper ol' friend." A low, amused tone from somewhere behind her shocked Rogue as Casper shrugged and nodded at the voice before handing her the drink she'd so desperately wanted. Casually, she swiveled her barstool around to see who had saved her intentions for the evening. Taking her first sip it was all Rogue could do to not spray it out in surprise.

"What, too strong?" the figure said with a laugh at Rogue's face as he sat beside her in one of the few empty seats left. He had a lean, spare figure. Long legs that were clad in the typical tuxedo black of the evening. The lanky legs reached upwards to meet an equally lean torso and arms. Attached to all this long perfection was a face that Rogue could recognize in the dark. Chiseled cheekbones stood out in harsh relief against the almost too pale tone of his skin. An aquiline nose that was just shy of being too sharp seemed to soften the effect, as well as his full lips which were quirked in a smirk that was unreadable. His eyes were the same as his father's and sister's though; a bright, almost sapphire blue that was electric. Just looking into his eyes caused a weird sort of _zing_ to shoot straight through Rogue. To finish off the almost Twilight Zone effect, his hair was an unnatural blonde color that was slicked back with far too much gel.

Striving for disinterest, Rogue, swiveled her stool back around, swallowed the sip already in her mouth and focused on what to say. To start off with, _I hate yah're father's freakin' guts_ didn't seem like a good place. Neither did, _Think yah sistah and the firebug are havin' sex on yah bed,_ considering he hated St. John. Besides, if the rest of this crazy place didn't know who she was, how in the world could Pietro Maximoff?

Quickly, Rogue stared off into the ever growing crowd of people in the ballroom, trying to find Roberto and Amara. You'd think under normal circumstances they'd be easy to spot, but Rogue guessed that they must have gone Peter Lensherr hunting. _Whoo boy_. Sliding her gaze to the left where the extremely grown up looking Pietro was, she figured she at least owed him something for the soothing glass in her hand.

"Listen, um, thank yah. Fo' the drink, ah mean." Rolling her eyes, Rogue grimaced a little as he turned towards her, "Yah'd think that they wouldn' check fo' I.D. at a place lahke this." His eyes were so _blue_, were Pietro's eyes that blue? She couldn't remember.

Taking another sip of her cocktail, Rogue watched him out of the corner of her eye as he blatantly looked her up and down. His heated gazed traveled slowly from the tip of her shoes upwards. Feeling his gaze trailing heavily along her body, stopping especially where her dress was cut out, it was almost as if he had touched her, the feeling was so intimate.

Shivering slightly, Rogue met his gaze, "Can ah help yah with somethin'?" This guy couldn't be Pietro, he was too..._cute_. Charismatic. Magnetic. The Pietro she knew was kinda scrawny, whiny and arrogant. This man seemed to have arrogance in spades, but whiny and scrawny were nowhere near the mark.

A slow smile lit his face, causing his cheekbones to jump to attention and his eyes to pick up an extra twinkle, "Well, I have to say…if I were that guy I wouldn't have checked your I.D." Then turning completely towards her, he thrust out his right hand towards Rogue and flashed his teeth in a megawatt grin, "Hi, I'm Peter Lensherr."

"Are you now?" Tossing back the rest of her drink, Rogue signaled to Casper for a refill. Shooting her own megawatt grin at the impassive bartender, she glanced at her new friend, ignoring the hand floating before her, "So yah're what all the fuss is about. Mah, mah..."

"Heard of me have you?" he leaned closer towards her, close enough for Rogue to smell his clean scent and the heady scent of his cologne. Nodding at Casper, he accepted a beer and then put it back down, still unopened.

Rogue shrugged gently, overlooking the way he stared at her chest, "No." coyly glancing at him up through her lashes, Rogue laughed inwardly as his eyes widened, "But someone ah'm here with just _loves_ yah."

Shifting his stool closer, he leaned his arm across the back of hers, "And what's your name beautiful?"

_Gag meh._

Wrapping her gloves hands tightly around her newly refilled glass, Rogue nodded at Casper then stood up and moved away from the bar. Careful not to drag the hem of her dress, she began moving towards where she could see Roberto and Allison seated at a table near the orchestra. Before she could move too far away though, a warm hand grasped her arm, just where the glove met the skin. Shocked, she looked down and then back up to see who would dare touch the untouchable.

A crinkly smile greeted her, "I'm sorry to ruin your grand exit, but I was honestly just curious. What's your name?" The twinkling lights all around the ballroom seemed to reflect in his almost blindingly blonde hair.

Wresting her arm back, careful not to spill her drink on her dress, Rogue stared at him in shock. The only guy who had ever come back for more was Remy. Mentally she sighed, she missed Remy, his annoying habits, the way he wouldn't leave her alone, his smile, his eyes…

Raising a gloved hand, she gently touched her chest as if in shock, "Meh? Why would yah wanna know Mistah Lensherr?"

"Becau-"

"Yo! There you are! We've been looking everywhere for you!"

Both Rogue and Peter turned around to see who was talking to them. When they saw who it was, Peter groaned out loud. The man coming towards them was too short for a normal man, in fact he looked like he was hunched over. His tuxedo, instead of the atypical black was a sickly green color. His complexion was sallow and his face pockmarked, his eyes seemed to be yellow. Behind him was another man, taller than the first, with broad shoulders and shaggy brown hair. He had thin lips which were pressed together making them seem even thinner, and his nose had the appearance of being broken at least once before.

Slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand, Peter glanced at the approaching figures and then swiftly shut his eyes tightly and groaned again. "Yah entourage, mah liege?" said Rogue, wryly. Shooting her a look of annoyance, he cleared his face and turned to greet the two men.

Slapping the taller, brown haired man across the back, he then carefully shook the much shorter man's hand. "Lance, Todd…great that you found me guys. Um, see I was just about to go looking for-"

"Save it, yo, we know."

Nodding in agreement, the man named Lance crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at Peter, "Next time you try to hide from security, might wanna try hiding the hair _Quicksilver_." Ignoring the fervent shushing noises being directed at him, Lance pointed in Rogue's direction, "Who's the chick?"

_Again with the chick stuff, what the hell do ah have tah do tah get it through their thick heads…no wonder Kitty dumped him._

But before she could start her rant, something else caught her attention, "Quicksilver?" she asked Peter as he blushed. _Pietro…blushing?_ Suddenly the strong, smooth man who had accosted her at the bar was gone and in his place was a frustrated and somewhat embarrassed man.

He coughed softly and grinned sheepishly at her, "Caught that huh?"

Rolling his eyes in aggravation, Lance nodded to Todd and they each grabbed an arm before tugging Peter away into the crowd. Rogue stood there for a second, watching the trio as they were swallowed up by the swollen crowd as the name Peter Lensherr was reverently chanted through the room. Calmly drinking her spiked coke, Rogue had been standing there for a few minutes, watching as he mingled with the commoners before Roberto and Allison finally joined her. Up on stage, Peter, Lance and Todd were joined by dead ringers for Colossus and Freddy Dukes, clearly there as bodyguards.

Smoothly stepping up to the mike, Peter dazzled his audience with his blinding smile as he launched into an obviously prepared speech. Tuning out the drone and mike feedback, Rogue instead watched as Alli cut through the crowd.

Openly frustrated, Allison marched right up to Rogue, snatched the drink from her hand and drained the rest of it in one long swallow. Staring wide eyed as her second, hard earned glass of liquor was demolished, Rogue's jaw dropped. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Roberto, a dark look on his face, as he meandered towards them.

Facing him, Rogue fisted her hands on her hips and glared, "What the hell happened?" she demanded in a low voice, not wanting to attract any more attention than necessary.

Joining the two women, Roberto glared at first his wife and then Rogue for interfering, "Happened? You want to know? Brainiac here,"he pointed a thumb in Alli's direction, "suddenly saw Peter Lensherr walk by us on his way to the stage and decided to completely lose her mind. She leaps from the table and practically catapults herself over his bodyguards in order to touch the poor man." Stunned, Rogue numbly took back her now empty glass from Allison and stared at her.

"Why the hell would yah do somethin' lahke that Alli? It ain't lahke the man is God or, yah know, J.K. Rowlin'." Firmly ignoring the cheers and clapping going on around them, both Rogue and Roberto stared at Allison as if she had suddenly grown a second head. All around them people were breaking apart from the stage and the orchestra struck up the beat once again. Bodies were swaying in a wave like motion across the room as more and more people joined those already dancing on the floor.

Pouting a bit, she crossed her arms widened her eyes in an effort to look more innocent, "I got too excited, I know. But it won't happen again, I promise!"

Laughing in disbelief, Roberto tossed Alli her wrap and clutch before herding her towards the door, "Damn straight you won't! You're lucky his bodyguards didn't shoot you right there. Didn't I tell you that he had increased security? Aw hell, I'm surprised he didn't kick us out!"

Twisting her own wrap around her shoulders, Rogue adjusted her clutch as she walked towards the door behind him, "So why are we leavin' then?" she asked, beside her, Alli nodded quickly in agreement.

"You're not leaving already are you? I haven't even gotten your name yet."

A small 'eek' escaped Allison as she whirled around. Spying Roberto's shocked expression, Rogue knew what to expect but that didn't stop her from shutting her eyes tightly as she turned slowly around. With her back towards the exit, Rogue figured she really had no escape plan as Peter Lensherr's eerie blue eyes fixated on her. Flanked on either side were the Piotr and Fred look-alikes, their arms crossed and stone cold expressions forcing their faces to mimic Greek tragedy masks. Carefully, Rogue ignored the plaintive look Alli shot her and the incredulous one that Roberto sent her way. But before she could open her mouth to reply, a slighter body was launched in between Rogue and Peter.

"OhmyGod!," Alli screeched as she grabbed his hand and wrung it with all the strength in her body," You're Peter Lensherr! Hi, I'm Allison Morales and Mr. Lensherr, let me just tell you that I don't believe a word the tabloids say about you and that Tabby Smith…" Still shaking his hand for all she was worth, Allison seemed surprised when she was suddenly hauled back by two pairs of big strong arms.

Looking slightly shell shocked, Peter stared at her wide eyed as he slowly shook out his hand as if to gain some feeling back from the random attack, "Well, um…thanks, I guess Mrs. Morales."

"Call me Alli." She purred, batting her eyelashes and ignoring the solid jabs to her side that Roberto was giving. Wrapping a possessive arm around his wife, Roberto nodded to Peter and his bodyguards.

"And I'm Roberto Morales, her husband." Peter smiled at him and nodded in return before turning back to the still silent Rogue.

Glancing behind him at the pillars of muscle, Peter turned his head around and stared hard at Rogue then held out his hand to her, "Please…dance with me." There was a muscle twitching in his cheek and the desperation in his eye that told Rogue how desperately he wanted to get away from his babysitters.

Anna, for the most part, had stood back from the show to watch Allison interact with her celebrity crush in amusement. But when Roberto eyed her and then glanced meaningfully at the exit, Rogue caught on quick. He wanted to get Alli out of there and quick before she did anything else.

Sighing deeply, she glared at him, "Yah just couldn' leave well enough alone could yah?" But she still placed her hand in his and walked alongside him as he led the way to the center of the dance floor. Peeking over her shoulder, Rogue saw that it took Roberto, and the two bodyguards to drag a gaping, red faced Allison out of the function hall and towards the valet.

She was chuckling softly as they stood in the center of the floor, and wrapping his arms around her waist they began the steps to the sedate dance. Peter quirked an eyebrow at her, his blue eyes still dazzling but a slightly darker blue than before, "What? I've got spinach in my teeth?"

Shaking her head, Rogue allowed him to spin her around and then sweep her close so their bodies were almost touching. "No, ah was jus' thinkin', that was too funny. But ah did tell yah that ah was here with a friend who jus' _adored_ yah."

His eyes widened in fear, quickly he glanced around the sea of bodies to see if Alli was anywhere near, "Her!? You came here with them? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? That mad woman flew out of nowhere and tried to have sex with me right there on the floor!" Rogue's ill muffled chortle caught his attention and he glared at her, "Besides, you still haven't answered my first question. What's your name?" Both blinked as a harsh light suddenly disrupted their quiet dance, someone from the sidelines had taken a picture of the heartthrob Peter Lensherr and his flavor of the night.

She opened her mouth to shoot a retort back, but one of his bodyguards, the Blob one, waddled over and spoke quietly into his ear. He held a hand up to stall her answer as he concentrated on what his guard was telling him. With one long warning look, the guard shuffled away leaving Rogue and Peter swaying back and forth on the floor.

Clutching her closely to his body, Peter gently steered them towards a part of the floor that was closer to the outskirts. Moving his mouth close to her ear in the pretence of dancing more closely he whispered, "Apparently there was a breach in security but they lost the guy. Fred was just telling me to be more careful." He chuckled, "As if I needed anyone to tell me that with such an angel in my arms tonight."

Rolling her eyes, Rogue couldn't deny that Peter's arms felt wonderful wrapped around her waist like they were, all warm and gentle. But they didn't make her tingle. Sure, when he looked at her full in the eye there was a shiver that shot down her spine. But it couldn't compare to the rare times when Remy would sneak close beside her, his perpetually covered eyes mirroring her reflection as he leaned closer causing a full body bone melt that left Rogue weak.

As the last notes of the song faded away, Peter brought Rogue closer to him. He leaned forward slowly, gazing into her eyes. Rogue knew what he intended but there was something over his left shoulder that caught her attention, making her forget him and forcing her shelved X-man skills to come to the surface. It was a glint that flashed periodically in the softly dimmed atmosphere of the room. The way it would flash brightly for a second and then disappear behind a potted plant in the corner rang some bell in the depths of Rogue's mind. It was a millisecond after the barrel poked its way through the plant that she finally caught on.

Grabbing Peter quickly, she pulled him to her and crashed to the floor in a puddle of silk shouting at the top of her voice, "GUN! EVERYONE DOWN!" The screams that followed were briefly silenced by the deafening _bang _from the gun in the corner. Still trying to catch her breath from her vantage point on the ground, Rogue could see all of Peter Lensherr's body guards converge on the foiled gunman. Gazing down at the man lying on the ground with her, Rogue groaned as she noticed that he had passed out from fright. And there was a disturbing damp spot that seemed to be growing along the leg of his trousers.

"Oh now that's jus' nasty." She murmured, standing up and dusting her dress off with a gloved hand. Bending down, she quickly checked his pulse and breathing pattern, satisfied that he was just unconscious, Rogue hefted him up so he could lean on her shoulder. Dragging him across the floor, she scooted over to an empty table and dumped him into a chair. Looking around the dance floor, Rogue nodded satisfied that the bodyguards had taken care of the gunman. Without a backward glance, she swept forward into the chaos, dodging people left and right, sweeping up her clutch and wrap before slipping out of the exit and into the night to hail a cab back to Alli and Roberto's.

The next morning Rogue awoke to bright sunshine and birds trilling loudly in the midmorning. It was the oddest sensation, but she could have sworn that some point during the night she talked to Remy. She had his Cajun accent thick in her brain this morning, causing a fog she didn't know if she wanted to go away. She couldn't remember much after leaving the function the night before and hailing a cab.

Stretching, Rogue couldn't help but hiss lightly as her bones popped loudly in the silence. Crawling out of Anthony's bed, she stumbled over to the dresser and mirror to check the damage. Her hair was a horror movie semblance of the previous night's glory, her magnolia flower pitifully limp and crushed, her curls glued to the right side. "Damn, ah musta been more tired than ah thought…" Rogue mused to her reflection as she desperately tried to salvage something of her hair before giving it up as a bad job. Walking up the stairs and moving down the hall towards the kitchen, Rogue could hear voices being raised in the dining area.

"…And I'm telling you, Roberto, we should have stayed! Did you see the pictures? That could have been us!"

"Alli, no. We did the right thing leaving when we did. Anna strikes me as the type that can take care of any situation, she was fine."

"But the pictures! And Lensherr! You know he was so ready to ask me to dance!" Walking into the bright and cheery kitchen, Rogue had just enough time to see Alli raise her head and nose high in the air as she glared at her husband and pointed a single long fingernail in his direction, "You were just jealous that he might have fallen in love with me!"

Walking over to the full coffee pot, Rogue poured herself a large mug and took a long sip of the steaming hot liquid. Grinning at the instant caffeine jolt, she made her way to the breakfast table and sat next to Alli. Which apparently was a bad thing since it brought her directly into the line of fire, and it seemed that Allison was taking no prisoners this morning; the nail that was previously directed at her husband was no pointed in Rogue's direction.

"And just what did you do last night after we left, Anna?" Switching her gaze back and forth between Alli and Roberto over the top of her coffee cup, Rogue set it back down and swallowed leisurely.

"Oh, yah know meh. Ah jus' danced a little then left once things got borin'." Shrugging at the questioning glances, Rogue smirked into her coffee at the disgruntled expression on Allison's face. But then her face changed and she looked too smug for words. Seemingly fed up with the entire conversation, Roberto threw up his hands and stalked into the backyard to play with the kids.

Tossing her loose, long brown hair over her shoulder, Allison gazed at Rogue in false admiration, "You know Anna, you looked really pretty last night."

Wary, Rogue eyed her, "Um thank yah Alli…"

"So pretty in fact that Peter Lensherr couldn't keep his eyes off of you."

Snorting into her cup, Rogue didn't look up as she answered, "Is that so? Ah didn' notice."

Smiling deviously, Alli swept something from the chair next to her and slammed it down in front of Rogue. It was today's newspaper and the front page heading was "HOLLYWOOD HEARTTHROB SAVED BY AMERICA'S NEW SWEETHEART." The picture was the one someone had randomly flashed during the single dance she and Lensherr had shared. In a display of superiority, Alli bared her pearly white teeth in a grin, "Really? Well apparently someone else did."

Ignoring the barrage of questions fired at her by Allison, Rogue scooped up the paper and carried it before her as she walked out of the kitchen and towards the living room. According to the report, a man named James Isaac Wilkinson had completely unhinged after his long term girlfriend had dumped him because she claimed he wasn't as good in bed as Peter Lensherr. With whom she had claimed to have slept with on several occasions. Incensed, Wilkinson then snuck into the ball with the obvious plan to kill him.

Sitting in the comfy recliner chair near the fireplace, Rogue burst out in laughter as she read the second part of the article. Apparently, even though Lensherr'd had oodles of extra security, at the time of the gunshot every man had been preoccupied with securing the perimeter instead of locating the perp on the inside. _Idiots_, but the only saving grace of the entire evening had been a mysterious, unnamed beauty who had risked her own life to save Lensherr's. The only descriptions of her? Tall, and beautiful with weird white striped brown hair. One witness described her as looking slightly skunk-like. _Real original there lady._

Looks like though it was a good thing she hadn't told Peter anything about herself, because he was mounting a full scale man hunt to find the woman who saved his life; which meant that she'd be leaving sooner than previously thought before he and his posse showed up on the Morales' doorstep. He knew she had come to the ball with them. This entire thing was starting to sound like a sick version of Cinderella.

Shaking her head in disgust, Rogue let the paper drop from her lap as she stood and stretched again, careful not to tilt her precious coffee. Again she had the vaguest inkling that somehow last night she'd talked to Remy, but the only way that would have happened was in her dreams. Did she dream last night? She couldn't remember, it was all too weird. This entire escapade was too weird.

Walking back to the kitchen, Anna gently placed her coffee cup in the sink and then rested her head on the counter. For some reason she felt like crap today. Her throat was aching, her head was killing her…shit, her head was killing her. Concentrating, Rogue tried to focus on where it hurt exactly, but the pain was too much and all she felt was a general throb all over. It couldn't be from the drinks last night, she'd only had maybe one or so.

Her head was still resting on the cool counter when the Amara clone walked back in, "Oh, and Anna…? Anna? What's wrong dear?"

Groaning against the tiles, Rogue could barely raise her eyes to where Alli was staring at her on the other side, "Ah feel lahke crap Alli, jus' all of uh sudden. Ah dunno, maybe ah should go back tah bed."

"That's ridiculous," Alli replied, rolling her eyes in exasperation, "you were fine not fifteen minutes ago!" Then her eyes turned suspiscious, "Are you trying to sneak out so you can meet Peter Lensherr? I mean, _I_ would do it, but you don't have to lie-"

With a boost of strength, Rogue shoved herself upwards so she could lean on the counter instead of simply rest her head on it so her glare could have more power behind it, "Ah. Am. _NOT_. Meeting. Peter. Lensherr. Ah feel sick Alli, give a girl a break, 'k?" then with a low moan she started to shuffle her way out of the kitchen and towards her temporary bedroom.

Before she got too far down the cluttered hallway though, Alli caught up with her and slung an arm around her waist in an effort to help her, "I'm sorry, you're right you look like crap." Then she perked up and smiled hugely at Rogue, "But if you feel better tomorrow, do ya think we can go and see Peter?"

Clutching at her head, Rogue tore herself from Amara's doppelganger's grip and stumbled a few steps before screaming a blood chilling shriek that filled the entire house and collapsing to the carpet. Before the pain in her head could cloud everything she could have sworn she heard Remy shout in pain and terror along with her.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Hey sorry it took so long to update...but i really enjoyed this chapter so i didn't want it to end :-D...

The dress described in the chapter is (unfortunately) not one of my creative, it can be found on _deviantart com_ under the name Fashion Plate 01 by Ludi Price...i'm not creative enough to think up pretty clothes like that lol.

And i also just wanted to say Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, i really appreciate it and i love it that everyone likes my work so far :-D yay!!!! I can live another day lol


	5. Viva Las Vegas

Disclaimer: Don't own X-men, or X-men evolution…never claimed to, so enjoy the fruits of my imagination that which have branched off of imaginations far more superior than my own :-D

Ophelia was a demigoddess in pre-war Babylon  
So statuesque a silhouette in black satin evening gowns

Ophelia was the mistress to  
A Vegas gambling man  
Signora Ophelia Maraschina  
Mafia courtesan

In the chilled infirmary in the mansion's subbasement, Hank McCoy, more formally known to the world as Beast, sat staring at the unresponsive computer screen perched on the top of his cluttered desk. Since the advancement in Rogue and Remy's case, Hank hadn't even glanced in the direction of his bedroom in the main part of the mansion. He only ate the twinkies stashed in various places around his lab and there seemed to be stains on his clipboard that looked suspiciously like drool, but he couldn't seem to remember when he had crashed.

Out of habit by now, he glanced quickly through the plexiglass to the viewing area where the prone bodies of Rogue and Remy were lying side by side on separate infirmary beds. He was weary and hated that fact, it meant he was weak and right now was a time when he could not afford to even contemplate weakness. Rogue was now showing signs of slipping into her coma much more deeply; apparently his previous diagnosis had been just slightly off the mark in the affect of her injuries; there had been more brain damage than he could have foreseen.

And Remy. Sighing heavily, Hank rubbed at his sore eyes and stared at the lanky figure of the Cajun. He hadn't been living in the mansion for very long but just walking into the building anyone could feel the effect LeBeau had brought to its denizens.

Two days ago, after Hank had joyfully proposed an experiment to see just how effected Remy's empathy could be by Rogue while asleep he hadn't expected it to blow up in his face right from the start. Luckily Mystique had vacated the mansion otherwise no amount of mutant superpowers would have saved Beast, he was sure of it. As it was, Logan kept giving him strange looks, half pity half accusation.

After Remy had voluntarily leapt onto the bed next to Rogue's he had settled down and promptly fell asleep. Hank had chalked it up to his alcohol induced sleep the night prior, but now he wasn't so sure. It wasn't ten minutes into the analysis, both Rogue and Remy hooked up to various machines to test brainwave activity and their respective heart rates when every machine in a ten foot radius began to go berserk. There was no other word for it, sparks were flying, various machines were shaking from one end of the room to another and smoke was roiling through the chamber, clouding any sight of Rogue or Remy in the room.

Sitting in the observation room Hank hadn't been able to hear anything, but if he hadn't known something was wrong before, as soon as he opened the door it became painfully obvious. Not strapped to her bed, but covered in cris-crossing wires that were in turn attached to the ever present machinery, Rogue was screaming at an ear piercing decibel level, her back arching sharply against the bed. Her arms and legs weren't flailing, on the contrary they were deathly still, but her face was wracked in terrible pain, tears were streaming down her cheeks and her mouth was cracked in the corners because of how wide she had forced it in her screams.

But where Rogue was still, Remy was not. He was shaking convulsively, his unique red and black eyes wide open, but unstaring. His blood red irises having rolled to the back of his head, his eyes had become an eerie pitch black that sent shivers up and down Hank's spine. But where only Rogue's spine had been nearly split in half, Remy's entire body seemed to be in the middle of a severe seizure. It had taken all of Hank's strength just to strap Remy to the bed before running to a small silver console on the side of the wall, and pushing a button, alerting Logan. Together they had subdued the duo.

That had been two days ago and still there was no change, save that Remy was no longer convulsing on the bed and Rogue was no longer screaming. Her screams had been what kept Hank up at night now; it wasn't his over indulgence of coffee or even the sugar of his highly processed junk food. It was the ever replaying sight in his mind of Rogue nearly snapping her spine in half and screaming as if someone had been slowly tearing her apart, from the inside out. After both subjects had been subdued, Rogue seemed to be doing worse and they had lost Remy, he had suddenly been unable to awaken. Hank could only suppose that where he was, Rogue was hopefully with him. He had faith that together they could make their way back to the land of the living.

It was just too bad that the Professor and Storm were coming home soon. This was not going to look good.

Light, almost nonexistent footsteps sounded behind him along the deserted corridor. It was incredibly early in the morning, and Hank didn't think it would be any of the younger students. But he was shocked to see the tousled brunette head of Kitty pop around the corner of his lab.

"Morning young Shadowcat, and why are we up and wandering around so early in the day?" he yawned loudly, his jaw cracking audibly. Slowly he directed his hand to the side and grabbing his cup of coffee gulped down a long swallow of the lukewarm liquid.

Hank kept one eye focused on Kitty as she walked into the room. She was nervous for some reason, as far as he could tell. She kept throwing quick glances out of the observation glass when she thought he wasn't looking and her hands were twitching and moving against one another.

Walking up to the thick glass, Kitty place one small hand against it and slowly traced the figures of her friends. Hank watched her in fascination, if he hadn't seen her eyes wide open and her facial reaction at the sight of Rogue and Remy he could almost think she was sleep walking through the mansion.

Without turning around she addressed Beast, "I had to come down here and see it for myself."

Putting his coffee cup down, Hank stared at her in confusion, "See what for yourself Kitty?"

"Do you know that no one up there really knows what happened to Remy? All Logan told us was that he was staying down in the lab and that was that. You know Logan, once he says something he thinks that's the end of the world." She sighed and her hands dropped from the glass, but she still didn't turn to face Hank, "But we could all feel it you know. It was like someone had amped up the juice in our heads they buzzed so much, we could, like, hear everything happening down here."

"If everyone knows what happened, how come you came down here?" he asked curiously, his thick blue eyebrows arched far into his furry forehead.

In a tone so low that Hank could barely hear it for all of his animal super hearing, Kitty whispered, "Kurt wanted to come but he didn't trust himself. The rest just figure that they'll get better and life will continue like Rogue's accident never happened." She shook her head and spoke a little louder for his benefit, "But Rogue's my best friend, I needed to know…to see for myself."

She was worried for her friend's safety; Beast could say this for Kitty she was loyal to a fault. A rush of anger swept through him at the thought of the other students, how could they just think that nothing would change? Especially if they felt what happened the other day like Kitty said, that made no sense. "How're Piotr and Kurt?"

Finally facing her teacher, Kitty shrugged her slim shoulders, "Piotr is fine, he's been wonderfully sweet."

"And Kurt?"

Kitty seemed to become withdrawn right before his very eyes, "Kurt had all his hopes pinned on Remy to save Rogue." Her creamy complexion became paler and her eyes hit the floor as she answered him, her hands still twitching at her sides, as if they itched to do something. Something besides sitting and waiting while two of her friends were little more than clinically dead to the world.

Beast nodded sagely, "I see. So where is he?"

"Tracking Mystique so she can help him find Mastermind."

A lurch somewhere near his heart stopped Hank; Kurt had gone to his _mother_ for help? He had lost all hope then. And Mastermind; if there was one thing Beast did NOT want, it was that psychopath mucking around in his pupil's minds. There had to be another way. "Kitty, get Piotr and anyone else who'll help. Get Kurt back here before he finds Mystique, we don't want her any more involved than she already is. Logan can help you track him down, regardless if he's 'porting." Hank ordered sternly, just in case Kitty had missed the importance of what was going on.

"But Mr. McCoy, what else can we do?" asked Kitty a little sullenly as she made her way towards the door.

Kitty was already out the door, her ponytail whipping along behind her when Beast replied quietly, "We can have hope Ms. Pryde."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

She was cold for some reason. Her eyes closed, Rogue reached up and touched her temple, groaning at the pain that seared through her head. Blinking the pain away tearfully, she opened her eyes and gasped. By now she had become accustomed to the fact that every time she had a killer headache she fainted and when she woke up was somewhere completely different. But this was the strangest place yet. In fact, she wasn't quite sure it actually was a place.

It was grey. That was the prevailing color all around; the ground was grey, the rock she had been lying on was grey, even the mist swirling around her ankles and face was grey. Waving a hand in front of her face, Rogue tried to dissipate the fog around her. There had to be more to this place than the obvious color dysfunction. But no matter how much she waved her hands, flapped her arms or blew deep gusty breathes at the air, the atmosphere didn't change.

Standing up, she clutched at her head as the colorless world spun in dizzying circles all around. Closing her eyes, Rogue breathed in and out slowly and calmly, willing her headache away. To her surprise, most of her migraine vanished. Grasping the rock behind her, the only landmark and her link to _something_, Rogue opened her eyes and peered around now that her head wasn't killing her.

Reluctant to release her anchor, Rogue slowly allowed herself to let go of the rock she had been lying on. In astonishment, she found that her hands were devoid of gloves; hesitating, she reached out to caress the rock, her heart pumping in joy at the ability to touch something other than her own skin.

With a cry of rage, Rogue pounded on the rock with her fists. She couldn't touch it! Her eyes suddenly brimming with tears, she watched her hands as if they weren't her own as they moved forward. Her fingers reached it, but there was no feeling rushing through her fingers. She couldn't graze her milky white hands up and down the craggy face of the rock; there were no edges for her to knick her fingers on. Her hands didn't go through the rock, instead it was like the rock was there but there was nothing about it she could feel.

Suddenly sick of the rock, Rogue shoved away from it and began to walk into the mist, leaving her only link to reality behind her. Nowhere in particular was her destination; besides, what could there be in this place that she could actually move towards? Grey, grey and oh yeah, even more grey?

As she walked, Rogue realized that she couldn't feel anything but the odd chill that seemed to have dug deep into her bones and settled there happily. She couldn't feel the mist as it flowed over and around her body, she couldn't feel the tears that made their way down her face and she couldn't feel her hands as they dashed the tears away.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" She cried in despair, hoping against hope that she wasn't alone in this desolate wasteland. Pure silence greeted her cry. There wasn't even a light breeze to comfort her that there was at least something she could identify in this new place.

Rogue didn't understand how she ended up on this jaunty little journey in the first place. But, if she closed her eyes tightly and concentrated, she could clearly see the faces of Kitty, Kurt, Logan and Remy as they had appeared the last time she'd seen them, in the Danger Room at the mansion. Something had to have happened after that, but Rogue couldn't recall anything after her Danger Room session except that she had this burning rage just simmering beneath the surface waiting to wreak havoc on Bobby Drake.

She continued walking, and didn't have a clue as to how long and in what direction she was heading. All she knew was that she wanted to put as much distance as she could between herself and that damned rock. Occasionally she'd cry out into the void, hoping that someone or something would answer her back.

With her gloves, her watch had also disappeared. So she couldn't even see how long she had been walking around, waiting for whatever to happen. Once or twice she thought she could see the faint outline of a rock, and promptly veered in a completely different direction. After catching her fifth glimpse of a rock in the distance, Rogue stopped and glared into the grey heavens.

"Is this to be mah punishment for not being lahke Jean? Trapped in a place that is grey and only has one rock and no way out? Damnit, NO!" she screamed out to no one in particular. Her chest heaving, Rogue was panting from her outburst, but she felt better. Then she heard it.

Or rather them; Rogue snapped her mouth shut and stood stock still. Whispers, soft, faint and distant but she could hear them. Grinning widely, Rogue began to run in the direction where she could hear the strongest whisper.

"Hello?" she called loudly, racing into the mist, "Hey! Someone answer meh! Where the hell am ah?" the fog swirled and cascaded around, spinning to and fro as she cut through it further and further into the gloom. As she ran, she could dimly tell that the mist surrounding her began to get darker until it was almost black. But the whispers were growing stronger. They weren't actually saying anything that she could understand, but they were caressing her skin, directing her towards them. She could feel the underlying pull that yanked her in different directions, but Rogue didn't want to stop it. She wanted to meet the whispers.

And then she was going to kick their collective asses until she got some questions answered.

_Rogue_

Now that one she heard. Her heart pounding from running so far, Rogue bent double and clutched her knees gasping for air. Clutching a stitch in her side, she righted and, still panting for air, whipped her head around searching for the person who had known her name, "Hello?" she asked warily. Now that she'd actually had a response, some instinct deep within her wondered if she had done the right thing after all.

_Roguey? Is dat you?_

"Oh mah god. Remy?" she rasped, her voice harsh in the grey silence. Her eyes were wide and the pupils almost invisible in the emerald green, had she truly just heard Remy? Of all people? "Remy, is that yah sugah?"

_Walk forward, Remy be close_

Again, Rogue felt the incredible pull that dragged her forwards, deeper into the black mist, and again she was unable to do anything but obey. But if this truly was Remy, she desperately wanted to obey.

Running towards Remy's whisper, Rogue suiddenly hit something hard and was thrown back into the darkness. "Owww," she groaned, rubbing her butt from her place on the grey ground. The place may have been filled to the brim with nothing but that didn't make it soft and squishy. "What the hell was that?" she muttered, slowly she picked herself up and walking carefully forward, her hands stretched out just in case.

A faint chuckle reached her, _Aww, did de petite hit somet'ing?_

"Bite meh swamp breath," she grumbled under her breath, but with no real heat. How had he heard her? He must be close. Inching closer and closer to the whispers, Rogue's hands suddenly hit a barrier. Though she couldn't feel it, she could tell it was hard. Which accounted for the pinball action she'd felt a few minutes before. Waving aside some of the murky fog, Rogue stroked the barrier with the back of her hand. It was clear, like glass but when she rapped her knuckles against the side it didn't sound like glass. Knocking against it didn't elicit a sound either, but as if summoned, a figure appeared on the other side. She could just make them out against the dim mist.

It was tall and thin, and Rogue almost crashed to the ground at the sight of Remy loping towards her. Stupid weak knees. Desperately she clawed at the impenetrable barrier between them, tears filled her eyes in relief at the sight of a familiar face. At this moment she didn't care if he didn't remember her like Amara, Scott and the rest hadn't.

"Oh God Remy," she cried, pushing her body against the force between them, "Ah've missed yah, can yah believe that?"

She could see that his eyes were equally filled with tears at the sight of her, but she had no idea why. As she hungrily watched, he raised his hand and caressed her face through the force field. "Ah Roguey, Remy's missed yo' aussi." Then he stepped back, his eyes fixed firmly on hers as if he couldn't get enough, "Where are we?"

Rogue laughed wetly and shrugged, "Ah don't have the foggiest clue sugah, but ah really want tah leave."

"Remy bet yo' do Cherie" he chuckled, his eyes warm as they traveled up and down her body, as it to make sure that she was truly altogether there before him, "Remy, Kurt, Kitty, Wolvie, Beast and Piotr been trying to get you out fo' days now."

"Remy, what the hell is goin' on here?"

He shrugged, his shoulders moving seamlessly underneath the well worn trench coat that was his trademark, "Belle, if Remy knew that we'd be outta here."

Rogue was all too ready to yank her hair out one strand at a time, frustrated she shook her head, "No, ah mean how the hell'd ah get here in the first place?" Then her eyes turned squinty as she stared at him, "Wait a second, didn't ah see yah one night in mah dreams? Ah didn't make that up did ah?"

Watching him, Rogue could immediately tell when there was something he wasn't telling her; his beautiful eyes wouldn't meet hers. "Remy don't know if he should tell ya dat jus' yet Roguey."

Her eyes bugged in shock, "Not tell meh? What the hell…REMY, yah need tah tell me." She waved at their surroundings, wishing she could wring his neck through the forcefield, "It may help us get outta here."

He only shrugged and for no reason Rogue could see glanced over his shoulder, but she wasn't buying his whole "I have no idea what's going on either" gimmick. She wasn't born yesterday. "And just how the hell'd you get in here? Or am I just going crazy and imagined you?" she demanded, her hands on her hips. If he didn't give her a valid answer soon, all hell was going to break loose.

"Remy don' know Belle, he was just tryin' ta communicate with ya and suddenly his head be hurtin' and he was here. Don' know how long be walkin' around though, dat fo' sure."

Staring through the clear barrier, Rogue narrowed her steely emerald gaze at him, "Communicate swamp rat?"

He didn't answer, but instead glanced over his shoulder again. To Rogue's annoyance he began to move backwards through the fog, "Cajun, get yah ass back here raght now!" she yelled, banging her fists against the silent wall between them.

As if from a distance, his reply came through the mist, "Remy…don' t'ink he can chere. There be a rock over here and fo' some reason, he needs to touch it."

Fear shot through Rogue; those rocks. Those damned rocks that were everywhere, seemingly following her throughout this murky wonderland. There was something really, really wrong with them and she had the insane idea that they shouldn't be touched at any cost, "Remy, no! Don't yah dare touch those freakin' things!"

He didn't answer, which frightened Rogue more than if he said the rock was glowing a vibrant magenta color and singing "Oh Susannah". "Remy?!"

Afraid for herself and Remy, Rogue backed away from the invisible wall and stumbled over something in her path. Glaring at it, she was shocked to find yet another one of the ever populating mini boulders just beside her right foot. She could have sworn that wasn't there before when she had walked past.

Nervous, Rogue stared at the small, stationary rock, unable to separate her sense of terror that exuded from it. Then she felt it, a feeling that was like a pulse echoing through her body, starting with her brain and working its way down into her heart where it controlled her entire being. The longer she watched it, the stronger and stronger the feeling came over her to touch it.

Finally she couldn't take it any longer, the urge was much too strong to ignore, she could feel herself being torn apart as she stood there staring at the rock. Closing her eyes, Rogue pulled in a deep breath, and kneeling on the ground she slowly reached out her gloveless hand and touched the top of the stone gently with the tip of her index finger. She didn't see what happened next.

When she opened her eyes she had no idea how long she had been out. But sitting up, she could instantly see that she was no longer in that colorless, silent hell. Instead, she was lounging on a plush bed, covered in a gold, embroidered comforter and half a dozen pillows in varying shades of gold and crimson. Her eyes widening in amazement, Rogue's gaze moved around the large bedroom. The walls were painted a pale gold color and there were crimson rugs here and there dotting the lush carpeted floor. A glance along her body also brought a wide eyed stare to Rogue's face.

She was wearing a clingy black dress that covered her from neck to toe; her arms were covered in silky black elbow length gloves. In a sad reflection, she raised her arms up and gently stroked the fine fabric that graced her arms. For a split second she mourned the loss of her body's freedom when the door to her room was opened, and a masculine figure swept inside without knocking. He was shorter than Rogue, and had a squat figure, all shoulders and arms, no neck. His face was strangely nondescript, but his nose had the appearance of being broken at least once. And it didn't look like it had been reset very carefully because there was a definite crook to it as it listed to one side. In some distant part of her brain, Rogue was oddly upset that it wasn't Remy who had walked into the room.

Flustered and blushing in embarrassment, her head jerked up as she opened her mouth to berate the intruder but to her intense surprise he waited just inside the door and bowed low before her, his eyes cast firmly on the golden carpet as he addressed her in a surprisingly high pitched voice in a figure so short.

"Mistress, he is waiting for you in the main lobby. I will wait for you just outside the door to escort you when you are ready to go downstairs." Then with a careful bob of his head, the nameless man backed slowly out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Heartily confused, Rogue just sat on the bed and stared at the spot where the man had disappeared from, her jaw wide open in astonishment.

"Well, don' that just beat all." Slowly she slithered off of the bed and landed on the ground in a faint "thump" sound that was well muffled because her feet, encased in high stiletto black leather heels, sunk straight through the carpet.

Silently she made her way over to western side of the room, where there was a huge window, so large that it seemed to be the wall itself. Staring out of the glass, Rogue was stunned to see that she was looking upon one of the world's best known streets. The Las Vegas Strip was glittering below her like the ocean shimmering in thousands of different colors at sunset. The lights blinking here and there were nearly blinding to Rogue, stunned she stumbled back nearly falling onto her face because of her heels.

Obviously she was in a hotel…a very tall hotel. She couldn't pick out individual people milling around on the strip, going in and out of the casinos all around, they all looked to be much smaller than even ants.

Ok, so if she was stuck in a high rise hotel about to meet some guy who had weedy little minions who called him "Master," where was Remy? Why hadn't he shown himself?

Rogue had the eerie feeling that it had to do with the damn rocks all over again, because they touched different ones they were now in different places. She firmly shoved that to the back of her thoughts for the moment, she didn't need to have a breakdown before she met this "master."

Walking carefully, she moved around the bed and towards the gigantic vanity that was beside the bathroom. She was stunned to see good quality black Italian marble for the counter top and gold leaf around the edge of the clear mirror. She was even more shocked to see her reflection. What she had expected, God only knows, but it hadn't been this.

For some reason, she looked old. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. Sure she was still the same ol' Rogue with the white streaked auburn hair and the bright green eyes. But there were lines around her eyes and mouth she wasn't used to seeing and she was definitely wearing more makeup than she was used to, Goth or not.

Looking closer, Rogue could tell that her eyes had a dim look to them and her hair, though perfectly coifed in an updo that twisted and twirled her hair in amazing aerial acrobatics seemed slightly dull beneath the can and a half of hairspray. She was just plain tired looking beneath the obvious beauty being displayed in the mirror.

Pinching her cheeks to bring a bit of life back into her face, Rogue muttered beneath her breath, "What the hell happened here? It's lahke ah died and they fohgot tah bury meh." A resounding knock echoed through the cavernous chamber, scaring Rogue as she whipped around to stare at the closed door with a guilty expression on her face.

"Mistress? Please mistress, we need to hurry. You know he doesn't like waiting for people, not even you."

She closed her eyes and breathed in deep and low, gathering her remaining strength and sanity. Rogue had no idea how much more of this random body switching shit she could do before she lost it and in a big way. Lifting her head, she glared at the smaller man and glided past him towards the door, trying to move regally with her head still raised and not catching his eye. If she was going to have to play yet another part, at least she can go in a little prepared. Who knew who this "Master" was?

But he was going to know who Rogue was soon enough.

Just outside the door, Rogue was not surprised to see more men waiting just beyond her room. These were not like the whiny pipsqueak who had intruded into her already chaotic world. These were thugs, plain and simple. They were muscled up to their eyebrows and even then their eyebrows looked like they could bench press at least half of Rogue's weight. Brawn, so Mighty Mouse must be the supposed Brain. Turning slowly, she raised her own eyebrow and shot half a glare towards her escort, "What's the entourage foh?"

His face flushed a deep puce color and his eyes stared everywhere but at the irate woman before him, "It was just in case you decided to be difficult Mistress." Rogue snorted inwardly, these yahoos were lucky she didn't become "difficult," they wouldn't know what hit them. Nodding her head in agreement the group began to walk down the hallway towards the elevator.

But then Rogue fell back a step, her powers…did she have them? It was hard to tell with the full length dress and gloves. But she had the feeling that she may want them sooner or later as strange as that sounded. So surreptitiously, she drew her hands behind her back and slowly began to lightly tug and pull at her fingertips till the glove on her left hand was loose, then she carefully and quietly slipped it off with barely a whisper of silk to ruin the movement. Balling the loose glove in her bare hand, Rogue nonchalantly continued to walk along the hallway with her guards.

Once inside the elevator she had to restrain the urge to flat out punch the smarmy looking thug to her right. He kept eyeing her up and down and smirking, his scarred mouth quirking maliciously. The idea of knocking out the jerk was appealing, but practically she knew that the chances of making it out of the elevator in one piece after attacking him were slim to none. Besides, as far as she could tell, at least two of the brutes were packing major heat, large guns that were strapped to their waists.

With a soft _ding_ the doors opened and the group began to file out with Rogue in the center, the sounds and music from the casino floor rushing into the cramped space with the fresh air. Together they began to move around the ground floor. Now that was she away from her room, Rogue could see that this casino was definitely one of the more popular; it was filled to the brim, drunken men staggering away from the quarter slot machines to the far more dangerous blackjack tables. Women standing around laughing and chatting with large cups filled at varying levels with shiny tokens nestled lovingly in their arms. There were even children bouncing around, she was shocked to see. They were running this way and that, screaming joyously as only a child could do as their caretakers chased after them all around the lobby floor.

Acting curious, Rogue glanced all around the moving mass of bodies trying to find Remy. The idea that he wasn't in the same place as her was unthinkable; she wouldn't allow it. Too busy looking for a tall figure in a trench coat, she accidently walked into the back of Thug number one when the group stopped next to the bar. It was still pretty early in the afternoon, but there were quite a few patrons sitting around, drinking, eating and smoking; all eyeing the beautiful, tall auburn haired woman who was being escorted by the rough and tumble men. All except for one and Rogue knew he had to be the "Master."

He was older than she had expected, but she wasn't surprised. Not unhandsome with salt and pepper hair, his suit was a dark charcoal grey, nearly black and his tie a deep burgundy. His grey eyes crinkled in the corners, as he sat down his glass of amber liquid and faced Rogue with a sardonic grin that pulled at his almost too pale skin, "So my dear, I see we have finally decided to deign us with your presence…what, got sick of the room you ran into last night? Now my little Rogue, we discussed this, pouting in a woman of your years isn't attractive. Tiffany doesn't do it."

Rogue's forehead wrinkled in confusion, "Who's Tiffany?"

His grin widened as he winked at her, "That's right." Obviously who ever this Tiffany was, Rogue was supposed to play dumb.

She shrugged and played along, one eye fixed on the charming man before her, the other cruising the floor for the wayward Cajun, "Fahne, but did yah have tah drag meh outta mah room?" Ignoring the nervous looks the men around her exchanged, Rogue watched in fascination as an assortment of emotions flickered on the man's face before her.

"My dear, I believe you misunderstood. I just desired your presence, and can you blame me? You look ravishing this evening." Standing up from this bar stool, Rogue was forced to look up as he towered over her. He reached for her hand and she gave him her left, still ungloved, to see if he would take it. A faint glimmer of rage settled deep in his eyes, but Rogue could tell it was directed at her; he leaned forward as if to whisper sweet nothings in her ear, "Put that away. Now. Glove on at all times, you know the fucking rules. And remember, before you can get out of this casino I could have you bound, gagged and in jail." He hissed vehemently, his hand clutching at her gloved arm, gripping it in a way that Rogue knew she would have bruises in the morning.

Releasing her, he stepped back and smiled benevolently as he straightened his lapels. Fear lanced through Rogue; so he knew about her powers, they only worked if she could touch someone, but if they were aware and wouldn't get near enough then she was at a loss. Suddenly she yearned for anyone else's power…Scott's, Jean's, Storms, even Wolverine's with the jagged pain that came with the claws.

Lost in her sullen thoughts, Rogue mindlessly slipped her glove back on when she heard something from across the room that caught her attention.

"Rogue? _ROGUEY_!" Her head shot up and her bright emerald eyes started darting wildly to and fro in shock and fear that it wasn't him, it was just someone that sounded heartbreakingly like him. Something gripped her wrist and glancing down she was stunned to find the henchmen's Master with his long fingers wrapped firmly around her thin arm.

"Rogue!" With a soft sigh of relief, Rogue could see Remy as he tried to make his way through the pressing crowd in a rush. It wasn't his usual graceful style, but the look in his eyes marked him definitely as Remy LeBeau; the vibrant crimson and devastatingly black searching for her own. With every move he made, Remy wouldn't release her gaze, shivers of feeling shot up her spine. Remy would get her out of here.

Now panting with excitement Rogue's entire body was vibrating with anticipation of escaping this nightmare. The man grasping her arm though leaned down and murmured carefully into her ear, "A friend of yours m'dear?"

Ice cold water rapidly replaced the tense excitement of seeing Remy alive and nearby. This guy was obviously big in the gambling world, what could she say? He had already threatened her once…what in the world could her alter ego have done to get such a reaction?

Quickly, Rogue widened her eyes at Remy and imperceptibly tried to shake her head, motioning to Remy to scatter and come back later. But something must have gotten lost in translation because his pace just quickened as he smoothly moved along the plush carpet. Worried, Rogue watched as his eyes widened until the red that she adored was almost invisible to the naked eye.

With all the charm of a schoolgirl, her eyes were focused adoringly on the older man, "Him? That's ridiculous…he's so…" she struggled to find a word that didn't follow the line of _gorgeous_, _sizzlin'_, or _so fahne mah panties explode on sight, _"scruffy." She bit her lips painfully as Remy steadily slid between groups of people, fighting to get closer to where she was being guarded. The idea of Remy being hurt because of her caused a harsh twinge to shoot through her stomach, slowly killing all the butterflies that had been fluttering around in there a minute ago.

Eyeing her captor up through her lashes, Rogue shot him a smoldering smile and slowly ran her hand up and down his arm, "Listen, why don' weh go back upstairs and have a night in, sugah?" Inside she was sweating anvils, the idea of spending any length of time with this man made the very hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. But the look he was giving Remy didn't give Rogue the feeling that he was ready to invite the Cajun over for a night of tea and crumpets…more like a nice swim. With a very heavy pair of shoes, especially made just for undersea diving.

Gripping his arm, she flipped her head around and quickly began to walk back towards the elevator. In her haste to save him, Rogue never noticed Remy's fearful expression as he watched her walk away. When she turned around in the elevator, her eyes searching the entire floor for the telltale trench coat the stale air in her lungs whooshed out when she realized he was nowhere to be seen.

Back up on the penthouse level, the Master wasn't overly gentle as he roughly shoved Rogue, stumbling on her death trap heels, into her room and slammed the door behind him. Tripping over the hem of her gown, Rogue threw herself at the door and pressed her ear against the cool wood to try and hear what was going on out there.

It was muffled but she could make it out clearly. A chorus of what sounded like a wooden bat hitting meat resounded against the door, thumping and grunting sounds following closely behind. Then an authoritative voice cut through, "Enough. Let him speak now."

Those five words raised goose bumps along every inch of Rogue's barely there bare flesh.

"Who was that man downstairs that tried to speak to my Rogue." A faint mumble reached the door but no matter how hard she pressed herself against the door, Rogue couldn't catch a single word. A shrill scream shocked her though, and closing her eyes she ignored the fact that on the other side of that door a man was practically being tortured for something he had no clue about. And it was because of her. "We just have to bend it a bit more and you know what would happen. A quick snap and there would be even more pain." The voice suddenly took on a cajoling tone; it rang pleasantly in the ears but it was the words behind the tone that brought on sudden chills, "Of course that's not all we could do. But this would end, right now Wyngarde, if you tell me who he is."

A gasping sob ripped through the hallway, "I-I don't know Master…I don't know!"

There was an ear shattering crack that pounded through the fairly thin wood and rattled through Rogue's head as her eyes clenched shut in sympathy to the poor minion on the other side sobbing brokenly; broken bones were nothing new in the X-Men life, but this was the first time she had heard bones being broken purposely.

"Take him away. Get him patched up, he has work still." To Rogue's relief they walked away, their firm footsteps growing softer and softer as she stood there pressed against the bedroom door.

Shaking from the shock, Rogue gingerly moved away and steadied herself on her quaking legs. Stumbling, she slowly made her way to the plush bed and collapsed on it, staring at the ceiling above. Now what was she going to do? Not for the first time did she wish she had a firmer grasp on her powers capabilities. It would have been nice to tap into one of the many abilities stored away somewhere deep within. Like Storm's, then she could just fly right out of the hotel, find Remy and figure out some way to get home.

But this was the real world and not some fantasy in her head. Taking a deep breath, Rogue yanked herself out of the bed and began to snoop around the room trying to find something that could aid in her escape.

All it took was fifteen minutes and an increased stress level to show Rogue there was nothing in the room that could help. Sure she could tear the sheets and make a rope…but that would only stretch, what, three stories? What would she do about the other seven? And throwing things out of the window would probably be the stupidest thing she could do. For one thing, it would catch the attention of the "Master," and for another she'd probably injure some civilian. Her inner X-man couldn't allow that. Silently she growled at her inner Scott and mentally enjoyed the image of her kicking his ass in the Danger Room.

The room spun for a minute and she hastily grabbed at the bedspread, but her numb fingers refused to grip the cool material and it slipped through her shaking hands. Her sight went dark and in her ears it was as if someone was having too much fun with the stereo, first turning it up too high one minute and lowering it past a dog's range of hearing the next. With her eyes shut tight, Rogue forced herself to breath in and out calmly; it was just a quick onset panic attack, which made absolutely no sense. The weird thing was that if she concentrated hard enough she could almost hear Hank and Kitty calling to her; curious, Rogue tried to block every sound out so she could "hear" what they were saying and then she shook her head drawing herself back to reality.

This was sad. She was stuck in a hotel room and was trying to listen to the voices in her head instead of trying to find a way to break out.

Slowly breathing in through her nose, Rogue cautiously opened her eyes and focused on the room. What was there that she could use?

Reaching across the bed for the phone on the side table she winced as her back popped loudly in the quiet room; apparently getting older sucked if she was going get all of these aches and pains. As she cradled the hand held in her palm, Rogue's finger poised over the nine button as she prepared to dial out. For that matter why was she all of a sudden so old? Every other time she had traveled she had stayed her own age…

But nothing came to mind, she could only chalk it up to hallucinations on this freaky psychedelic trip of hers. Firmly pressing a series of numbers on the phone, Rogue held it against her ear and listened as it rang once, twice and three times. After the third time it was finally picked up.

"Hello m'love. Miss me?"

With no hesitation, Rogue threw the phone against the opposite wall and watched dispassionately as the shattered pieces liberally littered the floor. The dial tone may have been silenced, but the chilling voice continued to ring in her head. She had no idea who he was, but for some reason the man only known to her as "Master" scared her more than anyone; almost as much as Apocalypse himself.

Picking up her skirt a bit, Rogue swiftly jogged to the door and gripped the handle. Turning it though was something of a shock, it wouldn't budge. A quick glance at the knob instantly told her that this particular door had the knob rearranged so the lock was on the outside.

Normally this wouldn't have been that big of a deal. She would have grabbed a hair pin and picked the lock faster than Kurt could teleport from one side of a room to another. But another search gave proof than anything fairly thin, and bendable had mysteriously vanished from the room. No doubt during her all too short bout of freedom downstairs. Rogue peered through the spy hole in the door, curious to see if it would even be worth the amount of noise and the broken hip if she were to break it down. But no, one of the Brawn Brigade, a monster of a man with long shaggy blond, shallow light brown eyes and more biceps than brains. But there was an almost harsh feline quality to his movements, the way he handled the sidearm that was glued to his holster; it almost reminded Rogue of someone.

More than frustrated at the lack of ideas flowing through her head, Rogue turned on her heel and crawled back onto the bed, not even bothering to take off her gloves. Right now, they reminded her of her normal life and normalcy was something she would do the Macarena naked on the jumbo screen at the superdome for. Lying on her side, her head sinking slowly into the squishy pillows, Rogue allowed a single tear to escape and trail down her cheek until it disappeared, leaving only a tiny wet mark to prove its existence.

She was stuck.

But where was Remy?

Remy was waiting where all good men must sometimes wait. At the bar. Drinking a bourbon, straight.

To be more specific he was waiting in the bar on the ground floor of the casino where he had seen Rogue not an hour and a half ago being manhandled away as if she were Mr. Suave's possession. That had definitely raised his hackles. The way his hand had slipped down her back and gripped her arm, careful to never touch her skin…it wasn't intimate, it was ultimate. That single move told the whole world that, that woman wasn't able to move on her own, she was his.

And Remy didn't believe in beautiful things being owned by those who didn't appreciate them. He was still pissed at himself; it had taken far too long to find Rogue. What had thrown him was two things: first, if that was what Rogue looked like when she got older then _damn_, and second the ringleader with her, the one who had lead her away as soon as their eyes had met. His was a face, an aura that Remy had never wanted to see again outside of a coffin sunk to the bottom of the ocean.

It still haunted his dreams at night knowing that for all these years he could have done something, but before he had met Rogue and join the goody goody squad the idea of helping others had been kinda foreign to him.

He was just thankful that Sinister hadn't recognized him at first sight, damn his eyes. But just how the hell had Rogue gotten mixed up with him? Slinging back his head, Remy allowed the liquor to ooze down his throat in a gesture that after so many years was as unpracticed as breathing. With a shake of his hand he motioned for the bartender to fill her back up, then grabbed the bottle. Drinking wasn't going to help, but a little liquid courage in the face of a dangerous psychotic genius? Who could blame him?

But if he was going to have to pull off what might possibly be the greatest heist in his long undistinguished career as a thief, then he had better get cracking. Reluctantly and not with a look of longing in his eye, Remy replaced the bottle and pushed it away, choosing to focus instead on the glass in front of him. What he needed was a plan.

"Hi cutie, you look like you could use a friend."

Remy had been so caught up in his worry over Rogue that he hadn't even felt someone walk up in his spatial sense. Feeling the fool, he grinned crookedly at the slim, young Asian-American woman who loudly popped her gum as she boldly looked at him, gaudy sunglasses on her head. She had the shiny inky black hair that was so distinctive to Asians, and the hands on the hips approach spoke of major attitude; but Remy could see that she just wanted to appear older than she was, this girl couldn't have been more than sixteen, seventeen at the most. Younger than his Rogue.

Turning his back on the bourbon, he leaned against the bar and nodded his head at her in greeting, "Bonjour p'tite, wha' can Remy do fo' ya?"

"Oh, French! I just love your accent." She smiled widely then frowned, "Damnit, I knew I shouldn't have learned Mandarin."

Remy chuckled at the fierce look on the young girl's face, he recognized that look. It was pure Jubilee. "And what be de name p'tite?"

Her eyes popped open and she pointed at herself, her mouth open in a large O shape. He nodded so she'd understand that, yes, he had just asked what her name was. "Oh," she tilted her head and snapped a loud bubble, "I'm Tiffany. Tiffany Lee." She snapped the bubblegum again and ignored the looks some pissed off patrons were giving her.

"Tiffany hein? Aren' ya jus' a bit too young ta be here chère?"

In a coquettish manner, she raised a single eyebrow and looked him up and down, "Whatever, my boyfriend happens to own this casino. Besides, I just figured you looked…I dunno, lonely and needed to spend some time with someone." She winked at him in obvious admiration.

Only years of training could give Gambit the ability to fight his gag reflex, Jubilee? Hitting on him? Mon Dieu, the world had gone nuts! She was more than a sister to him; at the mansion she was that annoying jabbering fly on the wall that you can never manage to hit with the swatter but once it disappeared you almost missed the constant buzzing. He looked at her long enough that she finally lost the engaging smile and fidgeted nervously under his black velvet gaze, "Look p'tite, appreciate the offer an' all but Remy got someone."

He watched as she slowly took a good long look around the bar area. There were three other men sitting at the bar with him, one dressed in a suit that had definitely seen better days, the air around him scented with the acrid odor of desperation as he loudly tried to rationalize losing five thousand dollars in gambling to his wife over the phone. Another was passed out on the bar, his hand still loosely wrapped around a glass of strong smelling liquor and drool pooling around his face as he snored in oblivion. The last was hitting on a waitress, holding her arm and trying to sweet talk her into visiting his room later that night; it almost made Remy blush to hear how bad a job he was doing. What woman in her right mind liked to be called, "my delectable skunk cabbage blossom"? Obviously he wasn't getting any tonight.

She grinned widely, flashing her small white teeth the pink bubblegum peeking at the sides, "Listen here cutie, guys with someone don't come to places like this." She sat at the bar beside him and nodded to the bartender, "Jerry, hit me with the usual."

In shock Remy's eyes popped wide open and he exclaimed, "What? Non! P'tite-," but he quickly fell quiet when a tall dark cola fizzing with bubbles and ice was handed to her with a small smile.

She took a satisfied slurp of the drink and eyed him with distaste, "What, you thought I'd order something like that?" she gestured at his empty glass, the smell of bourbon still heavy around Remy; she made a retching sound, "As if. That shit is nasty."

It was habit, he couldn't help himself; back in the mansion Jubilee had been known to slip up at times and curse. Usually whoever was around would catch her and get onto her about it. "Don' say dat word."

"What? Nasty?" she asked, rolled her eyes and went back to drinking her coke.

They were silent for a few minutes; Jubilee-Tiffany drinking like there was a worldwide shortage of soda and Remy staring at the bottom of his glass wondering if it would even be worth ordering another. Finally she sighed and pushed back the empty glass, the ice still clinking gently as it moved. Then she turned, leaned on her crossed arms and stared at him, her warm brown eyes fixed firmly on his face.

"What's her name?"

Remy opened his mouth and then quickly shut it. What could he say? Rogue? Sure, that was what he knew her as…but was it her real name? He would have to have been beaten by the stupid stick at birth to believe that.

The Jubilee look-alike heaved a great sigh and frowned at him, "Fine…since you don't know her name. Freak." She muttered loud enough for him to hear then continued on in a normal voice, "What does she look like then?"

As the image of Rogue flowed through his head an unconscious smile lit up Remy's already almost too handsome face. He could picture her so clearly, her hands on her hips her eyes lit with a fierce fire as she glared at him. "She's très belle, wit de auburn hair and white streaking t'rough it. Her eyes, dey sparkle like de rarest emeralds in de light an' she's de sassiest ting ta come outta de Mississippi."

Watching Tiffany from the corner of his eye, Gambit could see fear flush throughout her entire body; she sat up straighter and her eyes began to dart from side to side as she fiddled with her hair. She knew something. "She sounds pretty don' she p'tite?"

With a sharp movement of her hand, she signaled the bartender and got another coke. Drinking it hastily she kept her eyes focused on the gleaming bar counter. Patiently, Remy sat there lightly drumming the tips of his fingers as he watched her drain the glass in record time. Then she leaned closer conspiratorially and crooked a finger at him to move closer as well.

"Look, I don't know you but I know what I want. And I don't share well. This chick your waiting for? Yeah, she won't be coming down any time soon." She grimaced absently then continued, "She's older than me but hasn't yet learned her place around here."

Gambit could feel Rogue growing steadily closer as he sat there and fought to still the pounding of his heart against his chest. He couldn't afford to screw this up, "Her place p'tite?"

Her pretty brown eyes darkened and the line of her mouth turned grim, "Around here if you're connected to Essex then you belong to him. Rogue has been with him for years. He picked me up a year ago. He likes them young, but apparently Rogue fascinated him a lot longer than any of the others." She turned away from him then, "That's the only reason why she's still here…he won't let her go you know."

Remy could feel the bourbon in his stomach churning at the idea of what Sinister could have done to this young girl or even his Rogue, just as he was sitting on his ass in the bar. Glancing sideways at Tiffany he smirked, though his heart wasn't in it, "Ah, but chère, Remy don' intend ta ask Essex fo' his Roguey."

In that one sentence it was as if the entire past year had returned to her, Tiffany's face lit up from within and she glowed in the dim bar setting, "Really? Oh my god, that'd be wonderful. Do you think you could get me out too?"

Over her shoulder a large man was making his way towards the bar, his gaze firmly on the slim woman sitting next to Gambit. Swiftly he leaned closer and murmured, "Don' tell anyone we talked." Then straightening up, he turned with a swirl of his coat and disappeared into the fast paced crowd moving through the ground floor leaving her behind. But if she was connected to this Essex then he knew she'd be safe for now…no one would mess with his property.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sniffling desperately, Kitty furiously wiped away the tears as they coursed down her cheeks. Rogue had responded. She had moved and moaned and then nothing; Kitty had sat by her side, clutching her hand as she and Hank called loudly for Rogue to come back. But it was like she had died, one minute she was moving the next nothing; the only indication that she lived at all was the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath the infirmary blanket.

Remy hadn't moved at all, not even as they had nearly screamed for Rogue to come back to the living.

As Kitty struggled to contain her emotions, Hank had retreated back to his lab to run more tests on Rogue and Remy's brain activity. So far there had been nothing to report.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her tiny frame and nearly lifted her up as they hugged her close. That was all it took for Kitty to whip around and bury herself into her boyfriend's body, sobbing in fear and anger. He tried to gently soothe her with calming nonsense words as he stroked her hair and back, but nothing worked.

Heavy footsteps coming into the room was the only warning he had, and lifting his head Piotr came face to face with Wolverine.

"Look Russkie, why dontcha take Half-Pint upstairs. Ain't doing anyone any good down here drowning the place." The words were gruff, but the look in his eye as he looked at Kitty was gentle. He knew just how hard this had been for the young girl and was surprised that she hadn't cracked much earlier. He stood there watching as Piotr carefully carried his girlfriend out of the room and down the hall.

Walking into the laboratory, Logan saw at once that Hank was nearing his breaking point as well. His short blue fur was standing up in random tufts all over his body, pieces peeking through the cuffs of his lab coat. As Logan watched, Hank pushed back his glasses onto the top of his head and rubbed tiredly at his reddened eyes.

"Hank," Wolverine said quietly into the room, catching the other mutant off guard for once, "Go to bed."

"But Rogue…there was activity! Kitty and I saw it, I cannot just let that-"

"Yes you can." Logan interrupted firmly, "Hank, Piotr just had to carry out Kitty because she couldn't move on her own. You're about to fall apart. What good is this doing for Rogue and Remy? Face it, it's time to call the prof."

Hank's head drooped dejectedly, he hated feeling to useless, "Yes my friend. I can see that you are correct. I just hate to see two such young vibrant people felled by things outside of their control and being unable to aid in any way I can."

Logan slapped Beast's back with a rough hand, "Ya, I know there Beast. But we've tried. Only the prof can help them now." His hand still on Beast's shoulder, Logan steered him out of the room and to the upper floors.

There were only the noise of the machines and the almost inaudible sound of Remy and Rogue's breathing. Until the clinical smell was instantly dissipated by the scent of fire and brimstone. And the coughing of two figures in the darkness as a third watched on in silence.

_Bamf_

Mystique coughed loudly as she moved away from her son's hold, waving the air in front of her. He grinned sheepishly and shrugged, "Sorry Mutter, forgot that you don't like 'porting."

She smiled warmly at her son, the only one who looked anything like her with the blue fur. She could definitely see more of his father in him though, every time he squared those lovely yellow eyes on her. Patting him on the shoulder she graced him with a small nod, "It's fine Kurt, nothing you couldn't help." Her voice took on a gruffer tone as she addressed the still coughing third party, "Now then, we're here. Mastermind, get to work. And remember, you harm one hair on my Rogue and you won't live to see dawn."

The bald man grimaced but nodded and moved closer to the slighter of the two figures lying prone on the beds. He reached out his hands and gently laid them on either side of Rogue's head, careful not to touch her.

Mystique glanced at Kurt, "Go keep watch. We don't want Wolverine to come down here before Mastermind is finished." He nodded and moved through the shadows to the door, making sure that he was well hidden in the darkness, his eyes cutting through the gloom.

As the other two were preoccupied, Mystique walked around the room glancing at the machinery that was beeping and booping around her darling daughter. The sight of the second figure on the bed though stopped her cold. A chilling laugh crashed through the room as she walked closer to Gambit's side, she was chuckling by the time she was beside the bed.

It served the swamp trash right for the way he had talked to her the other day. He had been felled by something and seemed to be just as out of it as her Rogue. Surreptitiously she glanced around the room but Kurt and Mastermind were busy at their own tasks. Critically she traced the outline of Gambit's features with her bright yellow eyes; it was not her usual style, but the idea of smothering him with his own pillow had definite appeal. Typically she liked a bit more panache, but she was willing to make an exception for this thorn in her side if it meant he would be gone permanently.

With no hesitation she reached a hand out when her wrist as suddenly grasped by someone else. Shooting the interloper a glare she was surprised to find Kurt on the other end of the hand, "Kurt! You're supposed to be keeping watching for-"

"Me?"

Mystique's head whipped around as her hand instinctively went to the holster at her side. There standing just inside the infirmary was Beast, his arms crossed and he was gazing at her from above the lenses in his glasses.

"Mystique, visiting hours are during the day."

"I didn't come here to visit," she hissed vehemently at the doctor, "I came here to fix this mess. Something you X-men obviously could not do."

Hank eyed Mastermind, who had wisely stopped his actions at the appearance of the physically stronger mutant and stood beside Rogue's bed, "So you brought Dr. Kevorkian with you, how delightful. Mastermind, step away from the patient." He growled fiercely until the man moved several paces away from her body.

Hank crossed into the room and began to speak conversationally, "Imagine my surprise, when I came back down to gather a few things that I had forgotten only to find guests in my laboratory!" Walking past Mastermind, Hank growled at the man from the side of his mouth startling him into moving away from Rogue and closer to Mystique.

Standing before her, Beast rocked back and forth on his heels and smiled grimly at the terrorist, "Now then, what can I do for you?"

She blinked at him and gestured to her prostrate daughter, "Release Rogue into my care."

Hank shook his head, "Nope!" he said cheerfully, "Try again."

Mystique flowed into the figure of Colossus and grimaced at Beast in Piotr's metallic face, "Try and stop me." Creating a fist with Piotr's large, metallic hand, Mystique reared back as if ready to strike at Dr. McCoy.

"Wait."

Ignoring the worried look on Kurt's face for the time being, Hank reached a hand out to Mystique and gestured at Mastermind in the corner, "How do you know that he won't do what he did to Wanda Maximoff?" he murmured quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, Beast saw Kurt blanch a sky blue beneath his fur. Obviously such an idea hadn't even occurred to Nightcrawler just yet.

She just raised her face and snorted, "Please, I can control the man. He is weak."

Beast shook his head in wonder at her ego, "Magneto thought he controlled Mastermind too, but look at Wanda now. She's having flashbacks and fainting spells…do you want that for Rogue?"

Mystique stood there for a minute, staring at Rogue's body. Then she turned and crooked her finger at Mastermind, "Go. We are finished here." She nodded imperiously at Kurt, "Take us back Kurt."

Hesitantly, Kurt walked towards his mother, but a nod from Beast put more spring in his step as he held out his arm for both people to take a hold of. "Oh and Kurt?" called Beast just before they 'ported out, "Be home straight after, it's late. You still have school tomorrow." Hank chuckled and waved at the disgruntled look on Mystique's face as they disappeared in a poof of smoke.

Quickly, Hank retrieved the files he had forgotten earlier and with one last long look at his students on their beds, turned out the light and with sigh left the subbasement for the last time that night.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The only light that breached Rogue's awareness as she awoke was the light streaming from the bathroom, which she had accidently left on before crying herself to sleep. Levering herself from the bed, she sluggishly walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains. Whatever remaining sleepiness disappeared at the realization that she had awoken in the middle of the night; the entire strip was still lit up, but the hordes of people from hours previously had dwindled to but barely a handful that moved at a snail's pace down the street.

With a dejected sigh, she rested her forehead against the cool window pane, letting the chilly feeling wash over her too hot forehead and stared at the glittering lights down below. Already she knew that if she were to rush to the door and check through the peep hole there would be a guard standing on the other side, waiting for her to even try and emerge without the Master's approval.

Almost never in Rogue's life had she felt so weak! She was a girl of action, knock skulls, cutting people off at the knees, terrorizing the mansion…but this was horrible! Inactivity was the worst torture she could devise for herself…outside of shopping with Amara's doppelganger Allison again.

Numbly, Rogue allowed her eyes to lazily follow the tiny lights dotting the street as negative thoughts bombarded her mind; what was she going to do? Would the Master require certain…things of her? It was amazing, but for the first time in years, she could almost feel tears threatening to escape. But then a light tapping sound dragged her away from her sullen musings.

Pulling away from the chilled glass, she nervously glanced around the room and stared at the doorknob for a minute, just to make sure that the sound wasn't the door being unlocked and opened. Satisfied that she was alone in the room, Rogue again looked around, but this time more slowly making sure everything in the room passed under her inspection. Nothing was out of place that she could see, so she turned back to the window. And felt her heart nearly stop.

There, before her, his cocky ass grin plastered to his too handsome face was Remy LeBeau waving at her through the window, his reddish brown hair waving in the breeze.

Gasping and clutching her chest, Rogue took a step backwards, but just as quickly moved forwards again and flattened her palms against the brisk pane. Silently he motioned for her to move back and with a nod she signaled that she understood. As soon as she was safely out of the way, he pulled a small thin device from some hidden pocket in his coat and began dragging it along the glass in a large circle. The thin scraping sound was barely audible in the hotel room, but Rogue still nervously checked over her shoulder every few minutes to make sure that the thug from outside didn't come pounding in to see what was going on.

Far more quickly than she had imagined, soon there was a human sized circle cut through the glass. With a gentle flick of his finger, Remy knocked it slightly out of place and motioned for Rogue to come forward. Together they moved the glass quickly and silently into the room before laying it on the luxuriant carpet.

The glass on the floor, they stood there for a minute staring at each other. Since they'd showed up in this screwed up place, neither had seen the other up close. Remy opened his mouth, but a quick shake of her head and a glance at the door, Rogue let him know that it wasn't safe just yet to talk in the open.

Remy just stood there, his arms at his sides, staring at this woman for whom he had fought to find. It had taken him all of thirty minutes to overhear some minion bitching about "the boss's woman in one of the penthouses on the private floors." A quick pick of the pocket for the guy's walet and his mutant agility and here he was. Looking at what had happened to his Rogue. She was older than he remember, no longer the eighteen year old he had known in the mansion. No, this woman was a at the very least in her mid to late thirties, but she had kept her good looks through middle age. It was the sight of those telltale green eyes and how she shifted her snow white bangs out of her eyes that finally wrenched the beginnings of tears to his own eyes.

Unable to hold back, Rogue skirted the large glass pane and threw herself at Gambit as carefully as she could. She was still sadly aware of her powers, even in this joyful moment. But he caught her and cradled her body close. For what felt like eternity they could only feel the warmth of the other and the wonderful pounding of their heartbeats. Tilting her head back, she stared worriedly into Remy's eyes.

"Why're yah here Remy?" she whispered.

With his gloved hand he caressed the side of her face, where her hair covered the skin, "Aw, Remy couldn't jus' leave ya here belle. Not wit' Sinister around." His eyes hardened into bloodied chips of coal as he remembered the atrocities the man had performed in the past, not just on Remy but other mutants. Other mutants far more innocent and vulnerable. His arms tightened comfortingly around Rogue's waist and he shook his head, "Naw, couldn' jus' leave ya here, ain't right. Besides," he drawled lazily, "figured ya might wanna see dis ol' face from time ta time."

She glared at him, but there was no heat in her gaze. She was far too happy that there was someone here who knew her, not Anna, or Marie. But Rogue. It proved that she wasn't insane. Leaning in, she muttered in an undertone, "Yah do know yah're gonna have tah tell meh everything, raght? And Ah do mean everything Remy LeBeau."

His attention somewhere else, he nodded absently," Sho' t'ing Roguey. Now, let's get outta here." leading her over to the now wide open window, he began checking his pockets and straightening his gloves. Rogue slowly leaned out of the gaping hole, the wind buffeting her about as she stared at the ground far below. Backing up she chuckled nervously to Gambit, "Uh, yah haven't gotten the poweh tah fly lately have ya?" He just shot her a look.

She nodded to herself, "Raght…that's insane. Kinda like two people flinging themselves out of a window on a high rise casino and expecting tah walk away. Can't we just use the airducts?"

Pulling a harness from somewhere within his coat, Gambit began strapping it around her waist, "Non. Iffen we do dat, den dey would hear it and come busting in; dis is de safest and quietest way petite." Jerking her harness tightly, he clicked the carabineer onto his and gingerly began to edge their way out onto the ledge. Leaning down, he quickly clipped something to the edge of the window and turning to Rogue he grinned devilishly, "Hold on belle, gonna be a bumpy ride."

Like a shot, she wrapped her thin arms around his body and locked her wrists together, then jumping slightly she wrapped her legs around his waist. "Like this?" she asked coquettishly, inwardly pleased at the stunned expression on his face.

Swallowing thickly he just nodded and without another word jumped into the air. Then plummeted. Hearing the wind rushing past her ears, Rogue smooshed her face into Remy's warm body, concentrating on his even breaths as they fell farther and farther towards the concrete jungle. There was a strange metallic taste in her mouth, only to realize belatedly that in her attempt to not scream out in fear and shock she had bit her tongue too hard, blood was steadily pouring into the voiceless cavity. Rogue knew in that instant she was not meant to fly. Let the birds keep it, they were insane anyways…didn't they always fly into doors and windows?

With a sudden jerk, their free falling was slowed to a gentle slide and they inched their way back down to earth. Rogue could only hope that it was late enough that no one could see them; at this time of night the only people out and about were the hookers and the drunks. And neither wanted to talk to the cops to report two people falling through the air only to miraculously slow down as they neared the ground.

Touching the ground, Remy gently held Rogue's body to his as he unharnessed her and then carefully placed her on the ground. As she sat with a thud on the ground, spitting out blood and watched dazedly, he lifted himself and unconnected the harness. Tucking the equipment back into the folds of his trench coat, he grasped Rogue's hand and together they sprinted off into the night. Nothing left behind but the dangling cable from their daring leap and a glistening puddle of blood that shimmered in the moonlight.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Now Kurt, I want to know why you ran off to Mystique." Dr. McCoy watched the younger blue mutant as he fidgeted on the stool in the laboratory. His fingers steepled and a now somewhat stale twinkie resting beside his elbow, untouched through the entire interview.

It was the day after the incident with Mastermind, Mystique and Kurt in the lab with Rogue and Remy and Hank still didn't want to think too much on just how close he had cut it before both southerners lives could have been ruined. Or even terminated. Beast had called in Kurt to discuss his motives behind enlisting his diabolical mother and her pathetic helper in reviving his sister and teammate.

Twisting his three fingered hands together, Kurt refused to meet Beast's eye. It was obvious that he was ashamed of his actions. "Kurt?"

Dashing away the freefalling tears, Kurt blinked at the kind expression on the older mutant's face, "I just…couldn't let Meine Schwester lie there, dead."

Hank sighed and took a bite of his toughened Twinkie, absently chewing through the stale poundcake. "Kurt, understand that Logan and I do not blame you. You did what you thought was right, but Rogue and Remy aren't dead. They aren't even close to it." He smiled at the shocked look on his student's face, "Oh, you figured because there hadn't been any movement for a few days it was finished? Not at all my young friend, their vitals are still in the clear and yesterday Rogue almost woke up while Shadowcat and myself were down here." Finishing off the Twinkie, he dusted the crumbs off of his claws,"So you see, all is not lost."

Slowly a smile returned to Kurt's normally jovial face and his shining yellow eyes lit up as he bounced out of the chair, his tail whipping in frantic circles like a puppy finally free of its confining leash. "Danke Herr McCoy!" With the strong smell of brimstone and sulfur he disappeared as Hank waved his hand before his face and coughed through his chuckles.

Humming a jaunty tune happily, Hank settled down and polished off a few more twinkies in celebration before he was interrupted once more.

"Hank, we got company."

Hastily, Beast dusted off the pale yellow crumbs from his lab coat and followed the shorter mutant from the subbasement. "Who is it Wolverine?"

A harsh grimace crossed Logan's face as he led Hank to one of the windows at the front of the mansion and pulled back a curtain, the paled color of the doctor's face told him the answer was obvious, "They're back."

Indeed; Ororo, tall, calm, cool and exotically beautiful was standing to the side as the chauffer helped Xavier from the limo and into his wheelchair. Quickly, Hank turned around, allowing the curtain to drop back as he faced Wolverine, "Gather the students. Make sure they know that Rogue and Remy's condition needs to be disclosed by ourselves first. We don't need to cause the professor and Storm too much undue worry as to their respective conditions."

Logan snorted, "More like lack of, bub."

Hank paused for a second and then nodded his agreement. Shoving Logan towards the dormitory, Beast adjusted his clothing took a deep breath and threw open the mansion front door exclaiming, "Ororo! Professor, I hope your trip was amiable to say the least." He pasted a cheery grin on his furry face and tried to project nonchalance as he walked towards the pair.

Barely allowing his gaze to meet the professors, Hank nodded to him then turned and hugged Storm tightly.

A bright smile on her mocha colored skin, Storm's bright blue eyes twinkled at the sight of her old friend, "Hank, I hope the children weren't too much of a trouble."

Flicking a hand negligently into the air he shrugged, "No more so than usual." Walking over, Hank gallantly picked up their two suitcases and began to walk back towards the still open front door. A pale hand on his forearm stalled him though, glancing to the side he came face to face with the professor's concerned countenance.

Trying to remain calm, Hank finally met Xavier's gaze head on and wish he hadn't. There was remonstration in that look as well as true fear. "Hank, my old friend…why can I not sense two of my X-Men?"

Though the day was warm and the sun was shining fully, Beast couldn't help the shiver that ran down his back. "Let's get inside and then Logan and I'll tell you everything Professor."

Storm's eyes widened and her brilliant skin paled a few shades, "Which two?" she demanded quickly, jogging to catch up with Hank as he walked into the mansion foyer. Her voice echoed wildly in the front hall, bouncing around the empty space as if trying to find someplace to hide the fear that was evident in every racing syllable. "Was it Jubilee? Amara? I told Roberto not to sneak out of the mansion late at night…"

The Professor held up a hand and cut her ramble short, "My dear Storm," he said calmly," I'm sure we shall find out soon. We do not want to worry the students unduly, please try to remain calm until then."

His back to them, Hank winced painfully. He knew the news that it was Rogue and Remy wouldn't cause any major shock, Storm and the Professor had no major attachment to either of the students, but it was the fact that while they were away all hell broke loose. Beast just hoped that the Professor would be able to easily find their conscious minds and bring them back to reality before they went too deeply into their comas. In the back of his mind, Beast contemplated the fact that the Professor hadn't known instinctively that it was Rogue and Remy.

Just inside they met up with Logan and Kurt; handing Kurt the luggage, Hank asked him to take it to their rooms. Once his sulfuric cloud had dissipated, the small group moved towards the subbasement. On the way into the elevator, Hank caught Logan's eye. Neither of them were fooled by Kurt's easy going act when he grabbed the luggage. He was going to get Kitty and Piotr.

The elevator doors had just closed when Storm's restraint broke, "Hank, this is awful, why didn't you call us back," she demanded in the closed confines as they slowly descended.

Logan rolled his eyes and shot her a look, "Look 'Ro, fuzzball and I both tried. Reception musta been crap where ya were, 'cause we were callin' for days." Logan could see that she was frustrated but he wouldn't allow their efforts the past couple of days to go unnoticed.

Quickly Storm fell quiet at the knowledge that they hadn't purposefully left them in the dark. And even the Professor seemed to relax slightly at the understanding.

The trip downstairs was fairly quick but it seemed to go on forever. But at last the faint ding chimed through the silent air and the chrome doors opened for the group to walk through and down the hallway.

Before they walked into the laboratory though, Hank and Logan turned around and faced the other two adult mutants. Hank rested his clawed paw on the handle to the door and took a deep breath. "Just a bit of warning first, it looks worse than it actually might be at this time." And with a pneumatic hiss, the lab doors slid open.

Storm dashed through them ahead of the others and stood before the one way mirror, her right hand clasped loosely over her mouth in horror. "Oh Remy…" she murmured sadly.

The professor quietly wheeled up beside her and gazed through the window impassively, "And Rogue." He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke, "How long have they been like this?"

"For the better part of the week."

"What happened?" asked Storm, her eyes never leaving the unmoving bodies of her charges. Though she hadn't known him long, Storm and Remy had gotten along better than he had with a majority of the others at the mansion. And Rogue had been doing better since her last stint in the infirmary, when her psyches had finally gotten the better of her.

Sitting them in seats, Hank and Logan retold the story of what had happened to Rogue after that fateful Danger Room session. And how she had been sporadically having fits of wakefulness, but had never truly come out of her traumatic coma.

Remy's story was a little more interesting to tell and was punctuated by the uncanny arrival of Kitty, Kurt and Piotr. From their arrival, the three younger mutants began to interject their opinions and positions in the story as well as the incredibly uncomfortable feeling of just when Remy joined Rogue in the almost deadly sleep. Once they were finished and fell silent the room was quiet for a minute as Storm and the Professor allowed for the information to sink in.

The Professor rolled his chair over to the window and stared through the thin glass. "So they have been like this for almost a week?" he asked, turning his head sideways so he could catch Logan and Hank's eye. The nodded slowly, but stayed quiet. "And has nothing been done to try and bring them back? Did you just wait until Storm and myself returned from the business trip?"

"Nein!" Kurt cried, "Before Remy got hurt, ve vent to find Mystique and Mastermind to see if he could bring Rogue back."

"Mastermind?" said Storm incredulously, "You actually wanted to bring them into the mansion and let him inside your sister's mind?"

Hank gently rested his hand on Kurt's shoulder and shook his head, "No. Storm you do not understand the amount of strain this has put the entire mansion under. The rest of the students have basically refused to acknowledge such an accident ever occurred, Kitty, Piotr and Kurt are the only ones who had remained vigilant. Add to this Remy, and they were ready and willing to do almost anything to help her. Without the Professor here, our options of a telepath were limited, Jean was not strong or experienced enough to perform such a task." He smiled sadly down at Nightcrawler, "They were desperate."

"Yes, I can understand your motives and they are admirable indeed my X-Men," the Professor agreed readily, "but now we can truly begin on bringing Remy and Rogue back to the land of the living." His smile was warm and benevolent, "Don't worry."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

They were several miles outside of Vegas by the time Remy and Rogue stopped running. After ditching the casino, Remy had hotwired a car and they had sped away into the inky night, heading east towards Phoenix. They drove in silence; there was too much to say and at the same time nothing to talk about. And there would be plenty of time for the truth to come out when Vegas was no longer visible in the skyline.

The only trouble that plagued Remy was the niggling at his conscience that he had left Jubilee look alike back at the hotel, at the mercy of Sinister. In the race to get out of Vegas, he had completely forgotten the pleading expression on her face as she begged him to take her along; to save her. His mind at the time had been too full of Rogue and what Sinister might have been doing to her in the hotel as he was simply standing around pounding back liquor like it was water.

Finding a cheap motel on the side of the road, Remy quickly pulled the car into the dismally empty lot and parked in front of the lobby. Switching the ignition off he turned to look at Rogue. The flickering lights from the motel sign partially illuminated her face, the silhouette of which the only thing he could see. She was resting her chin on the fist of her hand as she stared out of the window into the darkness of the parking lot. "Rogue," he began softly, catching her attention, "we'll stay here t'night chère."

She sleepily nodded and began to unfasten her seatbelt preparing to step out of the car, when she felt a hand grasp hers firmly. Her eyes flicked upwards and met his. Shaking his head tiredly, he apologized in a low tone, "Je suis desolé Roguey, but we need to talk real quick before we go in dere."

"Bout what Remy?" she asked, her voice husky by the adrenaline charged day and their hasty escape.

He took a deep breath, "Gambit gotta go back dere."

Her eyes shot open, all signs of fatigue disappeared, "There?" she exclaimed loudly in the dark car, "why the hell foh?" The idea that he would even think about going back there was ridiculous, they had just gotten out! She glared at him the best she could in the dark, finally settling for the dim glow his unique eyes gave off in the shadows as the place to shoot her steely gaze.

"Rogue, ya were dere for a day, mais dere's another girl who's been in dat place a lot longer." He answered, trying to placate her with a soothing tone of voice.

Thinking hard, Rogue couldn't pick one girl out of the dozens she had seen on the ground floor in her one hour's worth of freedom in the casino, "Which girl?" she asked.

"Besides ya p'tite, Essex had another girl that he labeled his 'girlfriend,'" Remy sneered at the term, "Ha, girlfriend, mon ane. De name's Tiffany and-"

Rogue smacked her forehead with her gloved hand, "Of course! Tiffany. What," she asked snidely, "is she another busty blonde that you met at the bar?" She was hurt, thinking that Remy had come just for her. Of course it was stupid, the mansion's recluse. The Untouchable; why would he simply come for just her?

In the darkness Remy flinched at the harshness of her words, "Non," he said quietly, "ya don' understand chère, it's Jubilee." He could feel the pain and regret waving off of her the moment the words left his mouth, and hear her gasp in the silence of the car.

"Of course," she whispered, "oh mah God, it's Jubilee?" Shaking her head, Rogue couldn't dislodge the fuzziness as it crept into the nooks and crannies of her grey matter. It suddenly made sense. Every time she had appeared somewhere else, there had always been at least one person she could recognize. The idea that Jubilee's double had been the younger courtesan at the Master's casino left a sour taste in her mouth. Jubilee might be annoying but that doesn't mean that even her double deserved the ignominy of being a high roller's sex toy.

A restless feeling steeling over him, Remy ran his hands up and around the steering wheel as he spoke, "Remy ran into her as he was lookin' fo' ya belle, she helped him figure out where de hell you were in dat place. She wants out jus' as much as ya did."

Rogue was quiet for a second as she considered this information. Back at the casino they would have realized that she was missing by now. "They're gonna double security around her yah know."

"Remy know, which is why-"

"-Ah'm comin' along with yah sugah."

"-ya ain't coming. Now Roguey," he tried to cajole her, "Ya don' wanna go back dere belle! We jus' got ya outta dat hell hole. And if Sinister and his boys find ya, Remy won' be able to get us outta there in one piece." The glowing embers of his eyes seemed to flare at the sudden surge of emotion that flew through him at the thought of finally getting his hands on the man responsible for most of his nightmares.

Rogue chose to ignore his reasoning of why she couldn't come along for the time being.

Her head cocked to the side and he could see the dramatic sweep of her hair as it flowed from around her shoulders to hang beside her face, "Yah keeps saying 'Essex' and 'Sinister,' who are they Gambit? All ah know is this guy everyone called Master back there." She shuddered at the remembrance of the cold, silky feeling of his hands on her fully clothed body.

Rogue couldn't see Remy's hesitation, but she could almost feel the weight of the tension in that one innocent question. She waited patiently, fiddling with the fingers on her gloves as he worked up an answer for her. "Essex, Sinister and dis Master, dey're all de same man." He said finally, his hands still idly roving all around on the steering wheel. "Remy had a run in with Sinister a couple years before he started workin' fo' Mags…needed an operation and Sinister was dere ta help, saying he was the only one who could do it." Remy expelled a gusty breath of air through his nose as the memories whirled around in his head, "Dat man is de reason Remy can' sleep at night."

Stealthily, Rogue snuck her hand over to the driver's side of the car and grabbing his hand from the wheel, grasped it tightly in hers. She understood what it meant to be used to the breaking point by someone you once trusted. "Ah'm sorry." She said softly to the darkness.

He nodded to no one in particular and allowed his hand to squeeze hers gently. There was nothing else that needed to be said about that. "Let's go get a room."

Together they walked into the lobby and Remy sauntered up to the front desk, his grin firmly in place and ready to charm. Rogue hung back, trying to blend in with the drab wallpaper and fake plants, her coifed hair and fancy evening dress decidedly out of place in this roadside motel. With her back to him, Rogue ran her eyes around the mundane paintings that were hung around, one depicted a cheery woodland scene with deer jumping high and far into the forest, the ground covered in a light frost. Gently she skimmed her glove tipped fingers along the whorled painted edges, following the forgotten trail of the disappearing deer.

"Rogue."

Flinching ever so slighty, Rogue snatched back her hand and turned to look guiltily at Remy. He just held up the room key and dangled it so it clinked gently as it swayed back and forth. With a small smile full of understanding, he firmly gripped her hand and together they walked outside and around the corner. There were stairs on the outside the led to upper levels that were dotted by more rooms.

As they walked past one room and then another, Rogue could hear signs of life within a few of the rooms. In one, the television was blaring, Alex Trebeck reading off answers to the audience. The muted clapping still loud enough to crash onto the landing and fill her ears with the distinctive sound of music. Another room a couple seemed to be arguing and loudly, but over what she couldn't tell. The shouts and screaming blended from one syllable to another, each a mishmash of words that meant nothing to Rogue's tired ears. She could only imagine what it would look like to someone gazing at them from another floor: this tired looking older woman dressed to the nines in formal wear, trailing behind a tall and handsome twenty-something, their hands linked. Hello Mrs. Robinson.

Remy tugged her quickly along behind him, and soon they reached their designated room for the night. Wordlessly, he turned the key in the knob and held the door open for Rogue so she could slip in ahead of him. After relocking the door and deadbolting it, Remy turned around and allowed a small to break his face.

Rogue was passed out, face down on one of the two twin beds that Remy had requested to the amusement of the night clerk. One of her arms was dangling along the side and light snores were already escaping from her lush, wine colored lips. Walking to the bed quietly, Gambit bent over her body and gently brushed away the few sneaking tendrils of hair away from her face.

An electric feeling shot up through his finger tips and his arm snapped back. But Rogue merely mumbled in her sleep and shifted slightly, never waking. In a daze, Remy stared at his hand, searching for scorch marks that were invisible to the naked eye. But he could feel them, searing just beneath the surface. She had used her powers on him. Obviously he knew that she was considered the "untouchable" back at the mansion, but it had never truly entered his thoughts that she would drain him as well. For some reason, he had always felt…immune. To her beauty and her charm; sure he had always enjoyed flirting with her and picking on her on occasion, she was the only female in the entire freaking house that gave him any sort of challenge.

Running his slightly tingling hand through his rumpled hair, Remy puffed out his cheeks and blew out a gust of air in frustration and admiration at the female figure before him, "Chère, ya gonna be de death o' Remy." Popping off his shoes, Remy lay out on the only bed left to him, which was closest to the door and window, and crossed his arms behind his head, and facing Rogue, he fell into a light sleep.

He was the first to awake in the morning. But such a fact didn't surprise him, Rogue wasn't known as an early bird. Rolling to his side, Remy faced the window and noticed that the light creeping through the cracks was thin and grey looking, so it was still fairly early. Rolling back over, Remy stared at the yellowed cracks the crawled along the spackled ceiling like baby snakes. The best time to get Jubilee out of that hellhole would be early in the morning; people would be expecting something more at night.

But then there was the added fact that Rogue was right about what she said the night before. There would definitely be added security surrounding the petite Asian-American once people realized that Essex's favorite plaything had vanished from right under their nose. But Remy was confident that no one could trace the escape back to him.

Glancing to his right, Remy watched Rogue as she slept on in the wee hours of the morning. The silkiness of her dress had hiked up her smooth leg through the course of the night, and the sight of it created a lump in his throat. Rogue would definitely still be a looker when she got older. Tearing his gaze away, Remy slammed his eyes shut with an inward moan of defeat; she was affecting him more than he liked. Sitting up, he shook out his hair until it fell partially in his face and then he silently got off the bed. He just hoped this crappy motel served coffee to its tenants.

When Rogue woke up, it was as if she had been shot from a cannonade. One instant she had been in a deep sleep and the next she was sitting up, her hair plastered to her head from sweat, her body clammy and she was breathing hard as if air just wouldn't go into her lungs. Painfully, she pressed the heel of her hand against her heart to stem the pounding sensation against her chest. Closing her eyes, Rogue focused on breathing properly. But the sight that greeted her shut lids was fuzzy and indistinct, as if there had been a dream sometime during the night but all that was left over was the flavor of a dream, the scent of something she should have known. Pissed at her inability to remember, Rogue fisted handfuls of the comforter and pounded her hands onto the bed, for all the good it would do her.

"Remy-" but the words died on her tongue, for when she turned to her left to talk to him, she was stunned to see that the Cajun was nowhere. Quickly she stumbled out of the bed, her legs tingling from sleep as she limped around the cramped space, trying to see if he was in the bathroom, the closet, anywhere.

Now she was panicking. Quickly, she scanned the floor and the beds, trying to see if he had left anything behind. Moving to the bed, she tore through the sheets. She needed to know that she hadn't dreamed Gambit saving her from the Casino the night before. Her world seemed too mercurial lately, changing without warning in an instant. Breathing deeply through her nose, Rogue managed to sit back on her bed to try and calm down. Leaning back, she rested her head against her shoulder when her hand came in contact with something.

Twisting her head around, Rogue relaxed as she recognized the rectangular object in her hand. It was Remy's favorite card, the queen of hearts. Immediately the pressure around her lungs faded and air rushed in with a gasping whoosh, so quickly that she was lightheaded for a second. He was real. He hadn't been something from her imagination. She was going to go home, finally.

Satisfied, she lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling, fiddling with the fingers of her gloves. And that was how Remy found her when he came back to the room, holding two cups of coffee and a newspaper under his arm. Marching over to her bed, he held down one steaming cup, "Here," he said," got dis fo' ya, remembered dat ya like it très noir aussi."

Wordlessly, she grasped the Styrofoam in her hand and blew a cooling breath over the steaming contents before taking a small sip. Sighing happily at the taste of caffeine on her tongue, Rogue nodded to him, "Thanks Gambit. So," she asked nonchalantly as she sipped carefully at her hot drink, "where'd yah go?" She didn't want him to know about her freak out just yet.

"Gee chère, Remy figured dat de coffee explained dat." He answered dryly, sipping his own coffee slowly, as if savoring the heat in his mouth. She shot him a venomous look over the rim of her cup and he explained, "Remy was only gone fo' a few minutes belle. Figured dat ya'd want some coffee, den get a paper ta see iffen we made de headlines, non?" he set his cup down and grabbing the newspaper, shook it out on his bed so it flared open making the headlines jump out to the reader.

Rogue moved smoothly from her bed and stood beside him, staring at the paper spread out. There she was, in her older glory as the front page picture. _Well whaddya know, momma would have been so proud_, she thought wryly as Remy perused the article. Leaning over his shoulder, Rogue read it as well.

The gist of the article was that a very important woman in the Vegas casino nightlife had disappeared mysteriously and the authorities were checking into it because she was connected to Nathaniel Essex, who owned five casinos in the area. Rogue whistled low at that. Annoyed, Remy glared at her for whistling in his ear so she shrugged and smiled winningly at him in apology.

"Well den," Remy began as he folded up the newspaper and threw it to the side, "guess dat's it. Remy going back ta Vegas and get Jubilee out." He didn't face her; instead he stared at the ugly paisley pattern on the curtains cutting out the only source of natural light in the room. He knew the instant he looked Rogue in the eye, he would lose his argument and agree that she should come along, like a good obedient puppy. And he was determined that she stay as safe as possible. He hadn't traveled across distance, space, brainwaves and time to watch her be torn to pieces by a mass murdering fuckhead like Essex.

Rogue shook her head fiercely, "Nuhuh, Ah don' think so sugah. Yah gonna need meh, ah can tell."

"Non."

"Oui. Tu as besoin de moi, c'est vrai Remy. "

Rogue speaking French caught his attention and his eyes snapped to hers, groaning out loud he shoved her away and stood up away from the bed, "Non! Why de hell are ya tryin' ta get yasel' killed belle? Look, Remy can slip in dere and be out befo' dey know what's happened. No one knows about him."

Rogue shook her head, and fisted her hands on her hips in defiance, "Oh really mistah bigshot? That's amazin' since ah listened tah a man get tortured last naght as Essex tried tah get outta him just who the hell yah were." She smirked at him joylessly, satisfied that she knew something he didn't, "Yeah, Essex caught a good look at ya darlin', yah're gonna need someone tah help yah get Jubilee outta there."

As she watched, Remy's eyes dilated at the knowledge that he was no longer the ace in the hole he had thought he was. Aggravated, he ran his hands through his longish hair and snarled at no one in particular. "So yah see Remy, yah need meh, whether yah think so or not."

He glanced at her and one eyebrow quirked upwards in pique, "Careful dere chère, dat smug tongue o' yourn gonna get ya into some trouble someday."

Stripping her gloves and throwing them carelessly onto her bed, Rogue held up her bright pale arms and hands so he could see clearly just how serious she truly was, "Bring it on then," she said quietly. The gloves were truly off; let the games begin.

Rogue had no idea why this was so important except that hallucination or not; whether it was a dream or reality, Jubilee was an X-man. And you never leave your teammate behind in enemy territory.

Remy shook his head resignedly and yet when Rogue caught his eye she could see a gleam of something else in there, but she had no idea what it was. With a sigh he reached behind his back and pulled out the casino schematics he had hidden away, tucked into the back of his pants.

"What the…where the hell didya get these Cajun?!" Rogue exclaimed excitedly as they stared at the blueprints that he had spread with a flourish on the tacky motel bed.

He shrugged and grinned at her from beneath the strands of his hair, "What, ya expected Remy ta go in dere blind? Psh, please chère, t'ought dat ya knew Remy better dan dat!" He thumped his chest in a mock manly way and growled at her lightly, "Remy be a professional!"

Rogue chuckled and shoved him off the bed, "Professional…raght, professional pick pocket."

He quickly scrambled back onto the bed, frowning because a girl managed to push him so hard, "Call it what ya want belle, mais Remy be good." Rogue just snorted her disbelief, but refrained from pushing him off the bed again. Though she wanted to. Really, really badly.

Together they buckled down and studied the casino's blueprints for hours. Out of all of the casino's on the strip that Essex was reported to own they were positive that Tiffany was in the same one Rogue had been in because this was where Essex lived, had his office of operations. And they knew because there was an entire floor that had been blocked off to public foot traffic and was designated on the plans as "private floor-owner and guests only." Cha-ching.

At some point during the planning Rogue finally became so sick of her formal dress and now matted hair that she practically fell into the shower. It felt good to have the stinging spray of hot water pound away at the tension just beneath her skin after the night before. It made her feel normal, human for a short period of time. Usually, if she had the time for it, Rogue would stay under the water until the supply of hot water ran dry and even then she would try and hold out under the suddenly freezing jet that sprayed around her for at least a few minutes until she could stand it no longer.

Stepping out of the bathroom finally, she was came back into the main part of the room, scrubbing her now curling hair dry and making sure that her makeup had come off completely in the vanity mirror. She had no extra clothes right now, so she just had to grit her teeth and pull the dress back on; the idea of Remy seeing her in a towel was enough to make her fair skin blush from head to toe.

With the towel still wrapped around her head, and her crumpled formal dress draping her body she walked out into the sleeping area to find Remy lounging on the bed, his arms tucked behind his head and his legs crossed, toes twitching to some imaginary tune. Rogue cleared her throat loudly, annoyed that he wasn't studying the map like he was supposed to be doing.

Remy glanced over at the sight of Rogue and smirked, "Gee Cinderella, Remy t'ink dat de Fairy Godmère needs her wand revoked iffen dat be de look fo' de ball t'night." A throaty chuckle rang through the room when he saw Rogue's reaction, a one finger salute focused straight at him.

"Cut the crap Cajun, why aren't ya studyin' the blueprints?" Walking over to the vanity, Rogue unwrapped her hair and allowed the steaming, curling mass to fall down her back as she dropped the towel onto the counter. With a grimace at the sight of so many tangles, Rogue attacked her hair with her fingers, combing through the auburn and cream curls as best she could. In the mirror she could see Remy as he walked up behind her; his nearly shoulder length hair dancing across his cheekbones with every movement. It was distracting and left Rogue standing their jumpy with what felt like super bouncy balls springing all around her stomach.

He stopped just behind her and watched as she fought with the tangles imbedded in her hair. "Don' dat hurt, chère?" he asked, cocking his head to the side in curiosity.

She shrugged, "Sure, but we don't have a comb. Unless yah got on stashed away in any one of those millions of pockets in that coat of yours." Half hopefully, she eyed his trench coat in the mirror, praying that he would magically whisk a comb from some hidden pocket.

He shook his head and carefully peeled her hands away from her head, Rogue could feel the tension that had been released from her hot shower, creep back into her body even though he was wearing gloves. "What are yah doin' Remy?" she asked softly, her eyes wide and the pupils dilated in the mirror as she watched him.

"Remy t'inks he can do a better job o' straighten' yo' hair out dan ya belle. Just relax and don' worry," he soothed in a low tone. Slowly and not without the slightest hesitation, he began to run his glove covered fingers through her hair, trying to cut through the knots that had magically appeared from her shower. Absently, he watched as he stroked through the strands and wondered if her hair felt like the silk it looked like. Her hair was so shiny, and a shade of reddish brown that Remy could never recall ever seeing the like before.

She grumbled in a low voice, "Didn' catch dat p'tite." Remy said cheerfully.

She cleared her throat, "Said, ya better not be making anymo' knots back there Gambit." But the harsh tone that meant to come out with the words had been replaced by a low, husky tone that Remy had never heard from Rogue before.

"Whateve' ya say Roguey." He murmured softly and grinned at her in the mirror. The frightened expression that had been on her face had been rapidly replaced by a far more relaxed look, her eyes hidden by half lowered lids, her shoulders slumping slightly and from the heavy pressure against his hands, Remy could tell that she was leaning into him a little bit. As she moved closer, the clean scent of honeysuckle washed over him; her bodywash.

"Yah do know there's still a ton yah have tah tell meh, raght?" she muttered slowly, her eyes gradually shutting against the sensation of Remy's hands in her hair, massaging her head. She couldn't remember ever having someone do this for her before and she had to admit, it felt wonderful.

They stood like that for a few minutes, Remy methodically rubbing and caressing Rogue's hair and head, trying to get her to relax and get the few remaining knots out. The tantalizing smell of honeysuckle danced around Remy's head, making his mind swim only in the thought of just how amazing Rogue smelled fresh from the shower. Leaning towards her, he lightly smelled her hair and nearly groaned at the wave of honeysuckle struck him head on. As it is, the groan died in his throat.

Startled, one of Rogue's eyes cracked open. Something had made a strange sound, "Remy? What was that sound?" It wasn't Essex was it?

A choking laugh nearly escaped him as he tried to desperately restrain the urge to cuddle her closer, "Nuthin' belle, didn' hear a t'ing." Reluctantly, Remy let go of Rogue and stepped away, "Dere, all done.; ya hair is knot free." Knot free and flowing down her back, when was the last time he had seen her hair that free and loose?

Rogue turned to face him and smiled shyly, "Thank yah." She could feel the adrenaline pounding away in her body, and she silently cursed the blush she knew had stained her face at his answering smile. What could she do? She knew what she wanted to do, but having an unconscious partner at this stage in their plans to free Jubilee would really put a kink in everything.

Embarassed and confused, Rogue did the only thing she could think of. Distract him.

"Ow! Damnit Rogue, why de hell didja have ta go and hit Remy fo'!" He scowled at her and massaged his swiftly bruising shoulder. One minute the girl was all soft smiles and gentle curves and then next minute she decks him across the shoulder like Ali; he had expected a kiss, not a possible trip to the hospital.

She ignored him and brushed quickly past his grumbles, grabbing the hotel schematics Rogue held them up and waved her makeshift flag in the air at his still sullen face, "Jubilee? Ring any bells in that gumbo filled head of yours Cajun? We don' have the time to play beauty parlor but," she said sarcastically, "Ah'm sure if yah really wanted tah, Jubes would be more than happy tah do yah makeup when we break her out."

"Sho' gonna be happy when we get outta dis place." He griped crossly, just loud enough to Rogue to hear.

Rogue had been in the middle of twisting up her hair with the discarded rubber band from the newspaper when she went still. Her arms still up and glued to her sopping wet hair, Rogue smiled sweetly. At the sight of the honeyed expression she now turned towards him, Remy took quite a few fortifying steps backwards; one unneeded bruise was more than enough for today.

"Remy, sugah," she said softly, her molasses accent deepening with every word until it was almost a coo," speaking of getting' outta here…how did you get in here in the first place?" Rogue glided across the worn and threadbare carpeting towards him, a tender smile on her full lips.

Remy blinked at her owlishly. How was he going to explain this one? As if on their own accord, his hands flew up into the air in a placating gesture, "Now Rogue, ya were right, we gotta focus on Jubilee."

Her lips pursed at his change of attitude and her emerald green eyes narrowed. "Remy, ah know there's somethin' goin' on that yah don' want meh tah know. Why won' yah just tell meh? We're obviously in this together."

Remy couldn't stand it; the look she threw at him was one of pure dejection. He could only imagine what was going through her head at the moment, he comes and rescues her and then refuses to tell her what's going on? He had to admit, if Remy were in Rogue's shoes he would have already tortured the information out of him. "Look Chère," he pleaded, "Remy wants ta tell ya, he does. But now jus' ain't de time. When all dis is over, he promises that we'll sit down and have a nice chat, oui?"

She nodded once to show that she understood, but replied in a steely, determined voice, "Fine. But once this is over Remy LeBeau, yah will tell meh every thang ah swear tah God."

He agreed quickly, and tried to shoot her one of his noteworthy grins but she wasn't paying attention. Her full interest had already been called back to the floor plans and Remy's toothy grin died unnoticed. Rogue's eyes canvassed the plans and she pointed her gloved index finger at one particularly small entrance point, "Now, ah think that if weh-"

"Non, non non!" cried Remy, as he quickly whisked the blueprints away from her, ignoring her indignant shout, he shook his head at her neophyte attempts at breaking and entering, "Belle, ya can' jus' go in t'rough dere! And what is it wit' you and de air ducts anyway?"

"What? It works in the movies all the time!"

He tiredly wiped his face and glared at her, "Non. We're doin' dis de right way." Crossing his arms, he looked her up and down critically, "Aussi, iffen ya wanna help, we need ta change de look, n'cest pas?"

Rogue's eyes sparkled bright green at the idea of a disguise, "let's do it sugah."

The burgeoning vibrant orange, red and pink tinged sky was enough for most people to know it was time to head home for the night. But it was Vegas, just one of the many cities around the nation that really never had a bedtime, night or day. Here and there, people were strutting the streets; dancing around drunk, beaming with joy at their unexpected windfall, depressed at the state of their bank accounts. The farther out towards the outskirts of the city a person went, the numbers reduced and so did the quality of people.

On an illuminated street corner, three girls stood within a few feet of each other. All three leggy, buxom and fairly young. Two were brunettes and the third was a redhead. A fair distance away, stood their boss as he watched his merchandise as it pandered itself on the sidewalk.

The redhead was leaning against the post of the streetlight, restlessly lighting a cigarette that she had plucked from seemingly out of nowhere. Her fingers tapped a nervous beat against her bare thigh as she breathed in the nicotine laced air that quickly filtered through her lungs. The two brunettes ignored her, as one adjusted the fit of her dark purple pleather halter top and black miniskirt and the other exaggeratedly bent over on the pretence of straightening her calf winding strap. A dark blue sedan pulled up to the corner and a window rolled down.

A slightly balding head popped out and leered at the flesh paraded before him as he viewed the merchandise. One of the brunettes waltzed over to the window, her full hips lightly swinging first one way and then the other, "Need some company tonight mister?" She lisped slightly, her voice low and soft, her kohl enhanced deep blue eyes widened with a somewhat innocent gaze in such an experienced looking face.

He blatantly looked her figure up and down, from her stiletto clad feet to her tight, burgundy fitted tube top which was generously filled out. "How much?" he asked crudely, his voice raspy with years of inhaling first and secondhand smoke.

She pouted her lush, raspberry colored lips and leaned closer, letting him get a good look at her cleavage, "How's about we discuss it at your place?" He nodded and she smoothly walked around the car and opening the door, slid inside. The vehicle rolled away from the curb and disappeared towards the strip, it's taillights the only thing visible after a few minutes.

The pimp walked over to the two remaining girls and smiled warmly at both, "Good job, ya two! I'll put in a good word for you at the agency." He pointed to where the car had been, "Recognize him?"

The redhead flicked her butt away and stood up straight, as she took in the appearance of the stranger before her. He was tall, a few inches over six foot, young and handsome, his black and red eyes pulsing in the near darkness. With a grin and a quick lick of her lips she nodded, "Sure, comes by at least a few times a week. Works for Essex. Didn't you go with him last time Chloe?" she asked the remaining brunette.

She nodded, "Sure did, paid well too. But a total freak and mamma's boy. Always goes back to Essex's main place for the night."

The stranger grinned at the two streetwalkers and thanked them before flagging a taxi down and disappearing into the night after the sedan. Both women watched somewhat sadly as he vanished; they had each been hoping for a decent job for once.

Remy hadn't originally liked the idea of Rogue going undercover as a hooker, but the more they talked about it the more her enthusiasm infected him. He knew she would be safe. The first time that jackass tried to lay a hand on her, she'd take him out like she had been trained to, first by Mystique then by Xavier. If all went well, she wouldn't even need her powers. The trick was that he had to get to the casino at the same time that they did.

Remy was in luck, either the cabbie was just that good or Essex's man was a slow driver because the cab pulled up right behind the sedan in the entrance to the hotel. As he threw a couple of bills at the driver with a low, "keep the change," Remy quickly slid out of the backseat just as Rogue and the balding man were starting to walk towards the front door.

With powerful strides, he caught up to the pair and, his gloves on, grabbed Rogue by the arm before the man could do more than palm her ass. With mock sincerity, Remy glared and snarled at Rogue, "Told ya' not jus' go off t'night and you don' listen?"

She whimpered convincingly and half heartedly tried to escape his grip as the man with her stepped up and attempted to shove Remy away from his intended lay for the night, "Back off buster, I'm getting her first. If there's anything left afterwards the whore's all yours."

"He's mah…my employer." She replied, with an apologetic glance at Remy for her slipup. She had practiced all afternoon to try and erase her accent, but it was harder than she had thought.

The man's expression cleared and he nodded in understanding, "Fine. But let's take this up to my room, and we can discuss fees there." Together, the three of them made their way inside and towards the elevators. Walking close to Rogue, Remy shook his head at her questioning look towards the man. He wanted him in one piece for now, though he could practically feel Rogue hum with the need to take the man who had dared to touch her ass out for good.

In the elevator, Remy kept a firm grip on Rogue's arm and made sure that the jerk was standing close enough to almost feel her curves weighing against his rotund body. They needed to keep him panting after her. When the doors open, the man led the way down the hall but he made sure to keep Rogue and Remy within his line of sight, especially Rogue.

She tried to act all unconcerned as she walked down the corridor dressed basically in nothing but a few scraps of cloth. This wasn't nearly as much of an adventure as she had hoped originally. She knew she wasn't trash, but the palpable touch of the man's gaze along her body, and the seared imprint of his hand on her ass left Rogue with the desire for another scalding shower.

At the end of the hall the man stopped in front of a door and quickly unlocked it with a key card from his pocket. Stepping inside, he ushered in his hooker and her pimp and then swiftly shut and locked the door behind them.

Facing Remy, Essex's minion nodded in Rogue's direction, where she was half sitting, half lying on the bed from when Remy had shoved her down when they'd entered the room, "How much is she gonna cost me?"

Remy pretended to think on it for a minute, "how much you willing to pay?" Rogue glared at him from her position on the bed, acting or not she didn't want to know how much she was worth to this subhuman!

"Couple grand."

Remy shook his head firmly, "Don' want anyt'ing less than a hundred Gs." He nodded at Rogue, "She's my prize, y'see. Worth ev'ry penny."

The man snorted in disbelief, "Her? Hell, as it is she looks like she's been around the block and then some."

Rogue jumped up and started to march towards him, her hands already half formed into fists before Remy grabbed her. "Fine," he grunted from the effort of restraining Rogue, "Then we'll just take everything you know about where Tiffany Lee is."

The man looks astonished, his mud brown eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open, "What?" he exclaimed, "Who the hell are you?" All thoughts of sex gone from his mind at the realization that this was no ordinary pimp and hooker that he had pulled in from the street and welcomed into the hotel.

Remy smiled at him and released Rogue from his grip, "We," he stated matter of factly, "are here ta make sure dat girl escapes. Rogue," he asked, turning towards her and bowing low, "if ya would do de honors, s'il te plait?"

Rogue grinned, "Mah pleasure," she hissed. Before the man could do more than gasp in shock, Rogue had removed her wig and allowed her natural auburn and white hair to fall where it pleased.

"You!" he cried, pointing at her in excitement, which quickly turned to fear as she forcefully grabbed him and yanked his arms behind his back, "Hey, ow! What the hell…?"

"Shut up," she hissed in his ear, "Don't make me pulled harder. Now where is she?"

Remy calmly stood to the side and watched as Rogue tied his hands together and then forced him into a chair and proceeded to duct tape him to it. "Gambit suggests ya tell de lady what she wants ta know, otherwise, can' promise it'll be too pretty." He grinned at the trussed up man as his face progressively turned a darker and darker shade of maroon.

"Why do you care?" he groaned as Rogue wrapped yard after yard of duct tape around his middle, wrists and ankles, "She's just a no account whore of Essex's."

Incensed, Rogue purposely applied a strip of tape and then slow began to tear it off, trying to take the maximum amount of hair off in the process as he shouted for her to stop. Loathe to stop her, Remy knew something had to be done before someone came to the door to see what was making all the noise. Gently he placed his hand on her upper arms and squeezed, "chère, dis ain' helpin' Jubilee. We need him to talk, not scream."

Remy then turned to the man, "Where is Tiffany?"

Sweat now pouring down his shiny scalp, he tried to shrug through the layers of tape wrapped around him, "I dunno! Essex never let me near the girl. I'm just a low leveler!" he exclaimed.

"No," Rogue said, shaking her head, "this guy was with us last night when they made me go down to the lobby to meet Sinister. He was the one that made me leave the room. Ah'd recognize the no neck anywhere." She sneered at him as he gaped at her.

Nodding, Remy walked over and picked his pocket, swiping the key card he had used to get into the room. "Master card, Gambit be guessin'," he said, holding up the card for confirmation.

The dirty brown eyes that darted away was all the confirmation that Remy needed, and pocketing the card he thanked their hostage, "Très gentile o' ya monsieur. And don' worry, maid service'll help ya in a few hours."

"Wait!" Rogue said to Remy, and facing the man she asked, "What room is she in? Maght as well make it easy foh us mistah, we already got the key. And," she murmured, kneeling beside him and whispering into his ear,"it'll be betteh foh yah when Essex fahnds out that yah ratted out tah us if yah say yah were tortured."

Shaking slightly and now sweating profusely, he stuttered on the room number. Smiling, Rogue casually kissed his cheek for a second until he slumped over. Then standing up she grimace, "Ugh, ah hate the feel of slahmeball in mah head." she shuddered and glanced at Remy, "He wasn' lyin' Remy, room seven-oh-thirty-six."

Walking towards the door, Remy wrapped his arm around her waist, moved his lips close to her own ear and asked, "So, does Remy get a kiss aussi? Oh is dat jus' fo' de perverted criminal types?"

Rogue chuckled and slipped his arm off from around her waist, "Sugah, if that were the case, then ah woulda kissed you long ago." Stopping before they walked outside of the room, Rogue replaced her wig and adjusted her costume. Nodding to Remy they walked out together.

Bypassing the elevator, they went straight for the stairs since they were only a few floors down. Their legs pumping up and down the empty stairwell, Rogue and Remy could only hear their footsteps as they pounding the industrial rubber flooring and their breaths as they panting in exertion. A half a step ahead of Rogue, Remy made it to the seventh floor door first and burst through it, making sure it was open for Rogue as she flew into the hallway right behind him.

Without talking, they began searching the doors, looking for the right combination of numbers. It was a large floor, and not even the highest floor in the hotel. In fact, as Rogue walked around she noticed that Tiffany had been placed on a floor a couple below hers. Essex must not have much respect for his younger courtesan.

It was about five minutes worth of searching before Rogue heard Remy's quiet entreaty float down the corridor towards her, "Rogue, c'mere! Found it." As quickly as her shoes would allow, Rogue hastened towards the other end of the floor as quietly as possible.

"Yah sure?" she asked, as she stumbled up to the door he was standing beside. In answer he just gave her a 'duh' look and pointed at the number beside the frame.

"Oui, Remy be sure." Embarrassed she stuck her tongue out at him, grabbed the key card from his hand and stuck it in the door. She waited for the green light and the telltale beep, then knocked lightly and walked inside. Tiffany may not have been the favored courtesan, but that didn't mean she didn't have a nice room. Essex had given her a multiple roomed suite.

Inside it looked like a tornado had ripped through a high priced hotel room. Shirts, skirts, various bits of what looked like the inside of Victoria's closet dangling here and there. Empty food cartons dotted almost every available ledge as if they were trying to colonize and make villages of Chinese food and random pizza boxes.

"Tiffany? P'tite?" Remy called softly into the room as he and Rogue cautiously stepped around the paraphernalia littering the floor. Behind him, Rogue muffled a shriek, whipping around he was ready with a charged card in his hand before she explained that she thought she had just felt something crawl across her foot.

Deeper into the room they tread when they heard ill suppressed noises coming from behind one of the closed doors. Remy gestured for Rogue to hang behind, hidden from sight just in case there was someone other than Tiffany in the room. Creeping silently up to the door, Remy didn't bother knocking but gently turned the knob and peeked through the crack.

Inside the room were Tiffany and Essex. With a quick glance towards the bathroom where Rogue had hidden herself, just to make sure that she was out of sight. Satisfied, he pressed his eye further into the small space to get a better glimpse when he winced at the sight.

"Please," Tiffany whimpered pathetically as she knelt on the ground, her body prostrate and her head pulled painfully back by Sinister's grasp on her long ponytail, "I had nothing to do with Rogue's disappearance! Honest! This morning was the first I'd heard anything about it!"

Remy nearly lost his composure at the pain expressed in her voice. The bastard was hurting Jubilee. Reaching into his coat, Remy palmed a fresh, opened deck of cards, fingering one in preparation.

Essex looked calm as he replied, his hand still full of Tiffany's inky black hair, strands of it flowing from between his fingers as if it too were desperate for escape from his tyranny. "Tiffany, Tiffany," he cajoled almost lovingly, "Please dearest. There is no need to lie! I talked to Jerry, he mentioned that you were seen talking to a man that looked amazingly like the man that knew my Rogue's name in the lobby yesterday. I just want to know what he looked like and his name. It's all to get her back. And after that we'll never mention it again, right?" he supplied meaningfully, his voice tinged with equal parts rage and high class sophistication.

Remy couldn't see it, but he could still hear the shriek of pain that cut through the otherwise quiet morning. "Please, stop" she sobbed heartbrokenly, "H-h-he said his name was Remy."

Gambit resignedly shut his eyes. Of all the times for his third person habit to bite him in the ass.

"And?" asked Essex, in a soothing voice now that he was getting somewhere, "What did he want?"

Remy had to wonder how many people he tortured before going to Tiffany and striking gold. So much for his idea that the Jubilee look alike wouldn't be harmed.

It took a minute or two of gut wrenching sobs before she was strong enough to speak again, "He said he just wanted to get her out of here and away from you Nathaniel." Through the doorway, Remy could hear her gasping for air as she tried to explain away the pain her lover had been inflicting on her. Absently, he wondered if Rogue was being affected by the sound of Jubilee crying nearly as much as he was, or if she could hear it at all.

"So," Essex stated carefully for her benefit, with all the charm of a cobra, "it was all your fault after all. See, I told everyone that you couldn't possibly have had a hand in her disappearance, I defended you Tiffany. And this is how you repay me? Everything I've done for you? For your family?" Through his peephole, Remy could see the expression of animal like rage as it settled on Essex's otherwise austere features. The man was hauling back to slap Tiffany, his face red with rage and anticipation of the blow.

Grasping the first few cards of his deck firmly in his hand, Remy burst into the room like an avenging wraith, flinging the fuchsia bright cards directly at the man who was the source of all evil in Gambit's eyes. The cards exploded with fireworks worthy explosions, instantly burning through the clothing on Essex body and leaving third degree burns on his torso, face and hands. "Run P'tite!" shouted Remy above the explosions and cries of shock and pain. He didn't even bother to wait and see if she ran like he told her. Swiftly, he threw the remaining cards in his hand and then went for the bo staff in his inner pocket.

Extending it, Remy knocked Essex backwards into the wall, dealing a harsh blow to his unprotected head. Raging like a madman, Essex shoved himself away from the wall and charged Gambit, hitting him with a low tackle that had both men hitting the ground with a jarring thud that reverberated throughout the entire apartment. Remy's fists flew and he dealt Essex with a cut to the jaw, causing the other man's head to snap back audibly.

Shouts and tugging at his clothing finally brought Remy back to the present and he could feel himself being hauled upright by a pair of much smaller hands. "Remy, stoppit! Yah're better than this, don' kill him!"

Blinking away the veil of blood before his eyes, Remy found himself drowning in the deep green, concerned gaze of Rogue. He nodded and stepped back, his arm around Tiffany's slight shoulders as she buried her face in his body exclaiming between sobs, "I knew you'd be back, I knew it!"

As he stood there, Remy watched Rogue as she slowly walked over to Essex where he was slumped against the wall, his eye swelling shut and his mouth suffused with blood. He was grinning at her, his formerly white teeth stained a dark, burgundy color.

"I knew you'd be back m'dear."

Rogue stood stock still and stared at the man before her. It would figure that for such an imposing figure, getting the crap kicked out of him still wouldn't dent his outer façade of dignity and class. Before she could contemplate her actions, Rogue's fist flew through the air and again Essex's head smacked loudly into the wall behind him. "Ah'm not yah're 'dear.' Ah'm not yah're anything." Kneeling down, Rogue put her face as close to his as she dared, "Ah don' remember exactly all that you did to this body, to my body, but ah know it wasn' humane. Yah are not humane, yah have no idea how to even act like a human." With a clean gesture, she stripped her right arm of his protective glove, enjoying the fear that she could see in his eyes.

"Roguey, don'." Glancing behind her, Rogue could see Remy's beautiful red and black eyes pleading with her. "Ya're better dan dis chère Killing him is one t'ing, but draining him…Remy don' want ya ta live wit' dat fo'ever."

Rocking on her heels for a minute, she stared at the single bloodshot eye of the man who had terrorized her more than any enemy she had ever come against as an X-Man. Standing up, she replaced her glove. And then with a powerful thrust of her leg, kicked him and knocked him out, leaving him slumped and bleeding against the farthest wall in what was once Tiffany/Jubilee's bedroom.

Rogue turned around and smiled tightly at Rogue and Tiffany, before leading the way out of the room. The three of them quickly made their way out of the hotel, being careful not to attract too much attention; which was difficult with a man in a trench coat, a brunette hooker and a slight Asian-American teenager with tear tracks streaking down her face, but hey, this was Vegas.

With Tiffany resting in the backseat, Rogue and Remy turned the car back towards Phoenix, speeding away. Neither felt any inclination to ever visit the strip again in the near, or even far, future.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Rogue sat there with her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on Remy. "Thanks" she said softly, so as to not wake Jubilee in the back.

"Fo' what, belle?" Remy asked curiously as he kept a watch out for cops in the rearview mirror.

Shifting her gaze, Rogue stared at her hands, "Foh not letting meh drain Essex." She swallowed thickly, "Yah were raght, ah wouldn't have been able tah live with him in mah mahnd."

He shot her a quick heartfelt grin, "Non, t'anks fo' not lettin' Remy kill le salaud."

"No problem Rems. So!" she exclaimed softly, slapping her conspicuously bare thighs, "Now that this is all finished, care to tell me what the hell is going on? How come when I called the mansion Storm was there and she said the Prof was dead? How come Jubilee didn't recognize us?"

He sucked in a shallow breath, he hadn't expected her to go straight for the questions. "Well," he hedged, "See, Remy don' know iffen ya remember chère, mais a while back we were in de Danger Room."

She nodded her agreement, "Yeah! Of course ah remembeh that. You and ah kicked Kitty and Kurt's butt. And afterwards ah left with mah iPod plugged in mah ears." Then her eyes turned squinty and Remy could tell that she was struggling to remember what happened after that.

"Ya don' remember after dat, do ya Rogue?" he asked carefully, he didn't know how much to tell her and this wasn't a conversation he'd had with Hank before he'd managed to appear alongside Rogue in the middle of Mafia Vegas.

"No and it's the darnedest thang!"

He sighed and shot her a sidelong glance, "Well, Remy don' know how ta tell ya dis, so he guesses here goes." Gathering his courage and a deep breath of air, he continued, "After de Danger Room, Remy was walkin' wit' Chatonne, Kurt had 'ported ta son chamber et ya had decided ta jus' listen ta music and walk along. Mais," and here he hesitated for a long beat, "dere was an accident wit' Bobby. Ya got hurt real bad belle," he finished lamely.

Rogue was quiet for a minute. "But," she asked haltingly, trying to process this information, "If ah got hurt…how am ah here? How're ya here? Where is here?" she was starting to get hysterical and her voice rose in pitch. She had known that she wasn't anyplace normal, but if she was hurt wouldn't she be in the infirmary?

"Ya're in a coma, in the infirmary. Last time Remy saw ya body chère, ya had been dere at least quatre jours."

"Four days," she murmured in a low voice to herself, astonished, "A coma?"

He nodded, "Oui, and Chatonne, Bleu, Henri, Petey et moi have been trying since it happened ta find some way ta bring ya out of it." His face suddenly became stricken at the memories, "We even went ta ya mère fo' help."

"Momma?" she asked, astonished at her friend's devotion, "but…ah don' understand how yah're here still. If ah'm in a coma-,"her eyes flew wide in fear and trepidation as they became glued to Remy's face, "oh mah God, Remy are yah in a coma too?" she reached out her slightly shaking hand as if to touch him then halted, as if remembering finally that he was driving and so replaced her hand back in her lap, tucked away out of sight.

A shadow crossed Remy's face as he continued driving towards the west, "Non, Remy's not in a coma." But that was all he would elaborate on the matter and refused to let Rogue catch his eye for several hours.

They had just dropped Tiffany off at a friend of the family's that she claimed lived in the metropolis and had stopped off at one of the man Waffle Houses tucked away, off the side of the freeway. Before they had left her though, both Remy and Rogue were inclined to give the younger woman a series of hearty hugs; Rogue swearing afterwards that Tiffany gave her an extra squeeze out of sympathy and understanding of their recent situations.

It was while they were at the Waffle House and just finishing their third and fourth cups of coffee that Rogue felt one of her telltale, horrendous headaches coming on. Rounding her shoulders and hunching forward, Rogue cradled her head in her hands and moaned loudly.

Concerned, Remy leaned across the table and grabbed Rogue by the shoulder, "Rogue! What de hell is wrong?" In the last minute since they had been sitting there, Remy had seen what little color Rogue had in her face drain completely before she had crumpled inward on herself.

Peering upwards through the shelter of her fingers, Rogue shook her head slowly, "Remy, ah can't explain it…it just happens. One minute ah'm fahne and the next…ooooh" she groaned aloud, painfully. Remy winced at the chilling sound and tried to shield Rogue from the questioning stares of the other patrons in the restaurant. When their waitress came over, fluttering about trying to see if she could be of any assistance, he waved her away quickly, irritated by her very presence.

Slowly, Remy could feel a sort of lethargy steal over his own body. It wasn't the mind wracking pain that Rogue seemed to be having, but it was as if his body couldn't work properly, his mind couldn't think fast enough and his tongue had no mobility for speech.

Just before she finally fell onto the table in a dead faint, Rogue pulled herself up and reaching across the table, just barely grasped his hand before crashing against the smooth surface with a dull thud. Remy blinked at the hand held lightly in his own and then fell backwards, his face tilted upwards and his mouth wide open, but to the frightened patrons, no life could be found. Then the bodies seemed to melt away and life continued as if there had never been a seemingly lifeless couple sitting in a booth on the outskirts of Phoenix.

As for Rogue and Remy, it was pure darkness, soundless, lightless and airless. They were in limbo, without even the pleasure of feeling the other's hand clasped in their own.

* * *

French translation:

Oui. Tu as besoin de moi, c'est vrai Remy: "Yes. You have need of me, it's true Remy."

Hey people!! Sorry it's been so long since an update of Ophelia, but life and other updates have gotten in the way...plus, it took me forever to figure out how to incorporate Remy into Rogue's mindscape, god that took forever lol So enjoy...and look for future updates. Read and Review please!! That is what we writers live for afterall :-D


	6. Eat Your Heart Out Ringling Bros

Ophelia was the circus queen  
The female cannonball  
Projected through five flaming hoops  
To wild and shocked applause  
To wild and shocked applause

Bright, cheery sunlight filtered in through the gossamer curtains fluttering softly in the Professor's study. His brain a flurry of activity, for some reason any attempts at trying to gain access to either Rogue or Remy's mind the other night had been thwarted. He couldn't understand it; he had always known that both of the mansion's Southerners had remarkably strong mental blocks. But this was far stronger than he had ever encountered between either of them. Sitting at his desk, his finger's intertwined as he stared off into space; Xavier was startled when a light knock rapped against his door. He hadn't been expecting any visitor, nor had he sensed their presence but he blamed that on his preoccupation with the mansion's recent mystery.

"Come in please." He called warmly as he rolled away from his desk and moved to greet his guest.

Scott opened the door and walked in, his forehead wrinkled above his ruby visor. Silent, the Professor watched as Cyclops walked stiffly into the room and stood before him, his feet apart and his hands behind his back. The younger man was silent for a minute as if gathering his thoughts and Xavier just sat there patiently waiting for what his oldest student had to say.

"Professor," he finally began, "I just wanted to say welcome back, on behalf of the entire team."

"Well thank you Scott."

"And that well…we were wondering if it was such a good idea to continue this goose chase."

Charles eyed Scott carefully and turning his wheelchair around, moved back to his desk now that the conversation was no longer the lighthearted one he had hoped for. "What goose chase are you referring to Scott?" He was slightly shocked that Scott had jumped right to the crux of what was bothering him, and he was even charier to continue discussing the problem if it was about certain people in the mansion.

Cyclops shrugged hesitantly, and glanced down at the Professor's gaze. "You couldn't possibly be commenting on the concerted effort to bring Rogue and Remy back to us?" he questioned pointedly to his young protégé.

A second knock at the door interrupted Scott's answer and both heads swiveled towards the intruder. Swinging her long red hair behind her, Jean entered and smiled at both men as she moved to stand beside Scott. "Sorry to interrupt you Professor, Scott just asked me to be here and I was a little late."

"That is not a problem Jean, of course you are welcome here." he graced her with a small smile but then turned towards Scott again, "Scott, please explain what you meant before if you will."

Linking her arm with Scotts', Jean rubbed reassuringly along his bicep as he took in a deep breath, "Well professor," he began confidently now that Jean was at his side, "A lot of us in the mansion don't think it's a great idea to continue wasting all this effort to bring them back. Rogue's been gone for over a week now and Remy is just as out of it as she is. Wouldn't we be better off if the team concentrated on training?"

Charles sat at his desk calmly, watching his two oldest and most advanced students as they stood before him. "Let me just ask you a question Scott." His piercing blue eyes zeroing in as he watched Scott fidget slightly and move closer to Jean. Jean seemed unconcerned and leaned her head on his shoulder, her eyes focused on the professor. "What would you do if it were Jean who was in the coma? Or, what would you want to have done if it were you?"

Scott shook his head, his brow furrowed in pretend confusion, "Huh? I'm sorry Professor, I don't understand."

Beside him Jean nodded slowly, "Yes you do Scott." She looked up at him in entreaty, her jade green eyes wide with understanding, "And the Professor has a good point. We were just thinking about it from a team standpoint; you don't want us to appear weak. Well, honestly, if it was you or I would you want Rogue or Remy to be in here asking him to pull the plug?"

Shrugging her grip from his arm, Scott stepped away and jerked his head to the side in a fierce, decisive motion, "If it was the best thing for the team, if our morale depended on it? Yes, I hope that someone would be willing to do that for me, for any of us. Rogue and Remy feel the same, I'm sure of it."

Jean's horrified gasp rang through the room as she stared in horror at her lover, hardly believing that he would leave two of their friends, teammates to the fate of being a vegetable. His body tense, the Professor watched seemingly calmly as Jean took two steps, hauled back and slapped Scott with her open palm. His hand clutching at his smarting, throbbing cheek, Scott and the Professor watched as Jean ran out of the room, her shoulders shaking slightly.

"She slapped me." Was Scott's deadpanned comment, his voice slightly in awe of what had just occurred.

"Yeah, thought I heard something fun going on up here." Logan leaned in the doorway, arms cross, and a cigar dangling from his chapped lips, a tendril of smoke gently curling from the tip, "Saw Red run down the hall like a bat outta hell with its wings on fire. So what'd you do now Shades?"

"I…"

But the professor interrupted him quietly, "Scott was just informing me of his opinion as the team leader in the option of preserving our resources and ending this seemingly fruitless search for Rogue and Remy." With every word the Professor said, Scott turned paler and paler until he was a devastatingly bland shade that only served to offset the brilliant, perfectly shaped hand print on his right cheek.

Logan's cigar tip quivered as he tried to reign in his fury towards the younger mutant, "Gotta say Shades, for the 'leader' of this ragtag bunch of monkeys you seem to be pretty damn quick to leave them in a bind." His eyebrows high into his forehead, Logan bared his teeth around his cigar at Cyclops.

Drawing himself up bravely, Scott stood toe to toe with the shorter man and looked down at him, "I wouldn't expect you to understand. What I am trying to do is preserve the rest of the team from the demoralizing effect of false hope!" he exclaimed loudly, shooting an unnoticed pleading glance towards the impassive figure of the Professor.

_SNIKT_

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Charles sighed softly, "Logan, please a little restraint?" he asked, amused, "Thank you," he said calmly to Wolverine when the familiar sound of his blades retracted. "Now then, Scott, you say that your purpose is to stave off a demoralizing effect on the team, correct?"

"Yes Professor, especially after what happened a few days ago with Mystique and Bobby, I just felt that it was time for-"

Startled, Charles held a hand up stopping Scott mid-sentence, "I'm sorry Cyclops, but Mystique?"

"Actually Chuck, that was Gumbo's fault." Logan chuckled at the memory as he walked into the room and slumped into one of the chairs near the far bookcase. "The bitch snuck into the mansion after flirting with the Icecube, so Gumbo told her what had happened to Rogue and she went berserk. Stopped her before she destroyed more than the living room, 'cept the TV got messed up." He said morosely, his cigar drooping dejectedly.

"Continue Scott."

Gently fingering the side of his visor, Scott tore his gaze away from Logan and focused instead on the professor, his hand falling to his side, "Right. Anyways, after what happened with Bobby and Mystique, and then when everyone in the mansion felt the psychic fallout a few days later I knew something needed to happen. Besides, Beast, Logan, Kitty and Nightcrawler have been basically useless around the mansion! And, I've seen the enemy on the premises!"

Logan snorted, smoke curling from the corner of his mouth, "Iffen yer talkin' about the Russkie, don' worry so much Slim."

"Piotr? Piotr Rasputin has been inside?" Charles asked, curious. Seems he had missed more in the past week than he had thought previously.

"Yes!" exclaimed Scott indignantly, furiously throwing his hands up into the air, "And he's been in the subbasement, I've had Wolfsbane and Jamie keeping track of him."

"Am I to understand that you had our two youngest members, as well as the least experienced, trailing after a known member of Magneto's gang?" asked Charles, his gaze piercing straight through Scott's visor.

"Well, he's part of the enemy professor. And they were the only ones I could spare at the moment since they're too young for even basic training right now."

Logan shook his head, a low gruff chuckle escaping around the chewed end of his cigar, "Sure he is. Ever think though that he didn' have a choice though Scotty? Plus, he's the one who helped Blue and Gumbo find Mystique. And he's been handy with Half-Pint, she's been a bit emotional lately."

"Well gee I wonder why," Scott sniped back, sarcastically, "Maybe because she's had the constant reminder of Rogue and Remy around and can't get away from it."

Back and forth the two X-Men bickered, though Logan was carefully to not extend his claws again, it was obvious he wanted to in the way his fingers twitched and flexed with every diatribe. His arms crossed, Scott smirked as he argued back, the feeling of victory oozed off of him as they debated back and forth. Frustration building, Charles watched as two of his most trusted members verbally sparred, anger roiling off of them in devastating waves. Finally he'd had enough.

"That is enough please." Refusing to raise his voice, the Professor spoke quietly and firmly. Both individuals fell silent instantly. "Now then, we have both of your arguments and while they are each valid in their own way, they are only the opinions of two men. As for myself I believe that every person deserves the chance to live their lives to the fullest, but if the rest of the team feels anywhere near as strongly as either of you then they should have their chance to come out and express that belief."

"Whatcha sayin' then Chuck?"

"I believe we should have the entire team vote whether or not we continue the efforts to bring Rogue and Remy back. It would take a while, and would be easier if we had the support of all my X-men backing us."

Scott's jaw dropped in astonishment. He had figured that the professor would just take his word as he usually did, not actually turn democratic, "Professor, do you think this is the wisest course of action? Should we really expose such young members as Jamie and Rahne to a decision like this?"

Logan huffed loudly and pushed himself firmly out of the chair, "Why not? You've had them tailing a known and dangerous enemy. Fer the love o' god Shades, why didn't you just have them hunt down Magneto while yeh were at it?"

This time Charles did raise his voice, "Stop. This discussion is closed. In two days I want every member of the group in the library, we shall discuss the full issue then. For now, both of you are dismissed." Quiet fury was evident in his normally serene voice, and Scott left the room looking shaken for disrupting his mentor.

Logan stayed behind.

An eyebrow quirked in surprise, Charles commented, "I believe I said you were dismissed Logan."

"So sue me Chuck. Look, I may not like the Cajun, but that don't mean he deserves to be erased. And Rogue never had a chance before in the world." Shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, Wolverine made his way to the door, pulling it almost to before poking his head around the corner, "just a thought."

The professor picked up some papers and straightened them, shuffling the piles together as he went back to work, chuckling, clearly amused, "Why, I do believe Logan has become quite the softie since he came here."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

With a gasping rush of chilled stale air, Rogue jerked upright, the end of a scream burning a searing path down her throat. Panting raggedly, she wrapped her arms around her torso and bent double, the remnants of tears leaving a salty taste on the edge of her lips.

"Wondered when y' would wake chère."

Rogue whipped her head to her left and breathed the frosty air deeply into her aching lungs at the sight of Remy, just the knowledge that she wasn't alone, that it hadn't been a dream calmed her down far more quickly than if she had been alone. Choosing not to answer him right away, Rogue instead swiveled her head, scanning their surroundings.

With a groan she discovered that they were back in the land of all things grey. Only this time she and Remy were sitting in a loose circle, the strange rocks guarding them like sentinels all around.

"We're back." She whispered hoarsely, her voice gravelly in the stale quiet. Her emerald eyes fixed at her feet, Rogue was dismayed to see that once again she had no necessary coverings, no gloves or shoes. Tears pricked her eyelids again and she welcomed the sting because it meant that she could feel _something. _Though the sensation of them escaping her too bright eyes passed by unnoticed.

Ignoring the cool trail of water as it leaked down her face, Rogue could feel her heart flutter as she glanced sideways and saw Remy reach out and gently grasp her naked hand in his. It didn't matter that they couldn't actually, physically touch here; it was the fact that he wanted to hold her hand anyways that caused her heart to falter.

He smiled at her, his demonic eyes glowing gently, "Hey now," he cajoled lightly, his accented voice caressing her with its cadences, "leastways we ain't alone dis time, n'cest pas?" Her eyes still cast downward she watched his hand flex though she couldn't feel the squeeze, the gesture caused her to widened her tear soaked lashes and smile at him.

"And thank gawd foh that, otherwise ah'd be goin' crazy 'bout now."

He nudged her side and winked, "like ya weren' already?"

"Aw go kiss a crawdad Cajun." She smirked at him.

He leaned in and stared deep into her eyes, his own smoldering, "Remy kinda wanna kiss somet'ing a lil sweeter, whatchu 'tink belle?"

Rogue's eyes became enormous green saucers as she watched Remy come closer and closer, "Remy," she breathed," Ah don't…ah mean…"

Remy's face became magnified as it got closer to Rogue. She could hear him breathing lightly though she could not feel it on her skin. His eyelashes are awfully long, she thought distractedly in a rising panic. Her fair skin flushed a deep pink, and though she couldn't actually feel it, Rogue knew her heart must have been racing a hundred miles per hour.

His head titled gently to the right and his hand released hers to only cup the back of her neck as she unconsciously tilted towards him too. Rogue gasped aloud as she realized just how close she was to him and tried to wriggle backwards, "Remy, please…ah don' wanna hurt yah."

A deep throaty chuckle rumbled through his chest as his lips fell into the familiar crooked grin, "Aw chère, Remy promise's it won't hurt. Fact, he's t'inkin' ya might jus' like it." The hand wrapped around her neck and into her hair relaxed and, though the sensation was lost to her, she could see his thumb from the corner of her eye as it softly stroked her cheek, "See Roguey? Touchin' ain't a problem here." Unconsciously she leaned into the caress and hesitantly closed her eyes, her lips parted in a sigh.

A barrier pressed against her lips and her eyes flew open. He was kissing her. For a minute she debated on pressing back with all the desire in her deprived body; then reality hit. Wrenching back she glared at Remy, "Ah told yah! No! Damnit Remy, why can't yah just listen?" Frustrated, she levered upright and stood over him, her bare hands on her hips.

She hated the bewildered look in his beautiful eyes. It took all the willpower in the world she possessed after long years of physical deprivation to not throw herself at him and cry out that she was sorry, that she didn't mean it and would he just kiss her senseless.

"What's wrong Rogue?" he asked, hurt plain in his smoky bourbon soaked voice.

She took a deep, calming breath and exhaled before replying, "Remy, think about it. We're stuck somewhere that we can't touch. Sure, that means that Ah can't hurt yah…" a shadow of pain crossed her face and her voice lowered till it was almost a whisper, "but it also means that ah can't _feel_ yah."

Understanding blossomed across Remy's face as he stood up and wrapped his arms around her, "Remy sorry Roguey, he wasn' t'inkin'. He jus'," he laughed softly, the lack of humor plain, "God Rogue, I jus' wanted ta kiss ya so _badly. _Have for a while now."

Rogue swallowed thickly when he referred to himself in the first person. Such a small thing, she hadn't been expecting it to affect her so strongly. Reaching up, she rested the tips of her fingers against his cheek and watched in fascination as the long pale fingers trailed lightly across his face. "Ah know," she said to him, just as softly, "believe meh, ah know Remy."

Pulling back her hand, she smiled at him then turned away. A shiver coursed down her body, she wasn't used to sharing so much with a person. Clapping her hands together, she glanced over her shoulder and asked a little too loudly, "So! What are weh gonna do now, huh?"

Remy eyed her closely, suspicion in his gaze, "First off belle, how're ya feelin'?"

"Feeling?"

"Yeah, feelin'. Last t'ing Remy remembers, we was sittin' in a Waffle House in Phoenix, den ya got de headache and here we are."

Rogue gingerly shook her head from side to side, "Well, ah definitely don' feel anything now. Head or elsewhere. Though, it ain't really hard tah imagine that ah'm in a coma after what's been going on lately." She shrugged, "It's just nahce tah have an explanation, yah know?"

Another shiver attacked her spine, "Ah just don't wanna go back tah Vegas foh a long while."

Remy nodded and stepping forward, wrapped his arm around her slim shoulders. "So what should we do now?"

Rogue reluctantly stepped out of Remy's embrace and towards the haphazard circle of boring grey boulders, "Well, last thing ah remembeh befoh Vegas was being here, we were separated…and then there were these things." She pointed at one of the larger rocks, fear and disdain coloring her rich, honeyed voice. "We touched one and _bam!_" she smacked her fist into her open palm, "Vegas and Sinister."

"So…we touch another and quoi? De Titanic as it's sinkin'?" Remy's nose wrinkled at the thought, "Personally chère, Remy really don' wanna go down wit' de ship."

Rogue rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Ah really don' know Remy. We just need tah find a way outta here and with all this fog," she flapped her hand in the dense grey vapor, "Ah'd lahke tah see yah try and find a way."

As she watched, Rogue saw Remy's eyes glaze over as he stared off into the distance. "Ya feel dat?" he murmured beside her.

"Pretty much not feelin' anything here Gambit." Rogue replied dryly.

Remy shot her a reproachful look and shook his head, "Non Roguey, Remy be serious maintenant…t'ain't like he _feels_ it so much as it's in me, comprends?"

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and eyed him sardonically, "So let meh get this straight, yah can't feel it, but it's all in yah. Raght?" He nodded slowly, his eyes still focused in the general direction of the stones, "Lord but that's crazy Remy." She snorted loudly.

The heat of his gaze scored her senses as he held her look with his unique eyes, "Tais-toi."

Gasping in outrage, Rogue's body flushed in rage as she snapped her mouth open ready to berate him, but he place a single finger against her lips. Though the sensation was lost on her, Rogue fell silent at the gesture, shocked to her core.

Remy's inky black and blood red eyes twinkled at the swift silence, " 'Bout time, now den chère, just hush for un minute."

Huffing and crossing her arms before her chest, Rogue twisted away from him and stared off into the distance. Frustrated and annoyed, she envisioned multiple ways of venting her fury on Remy. As she breathed in deeply though to pay him a piece of her mind, Rogue gasped in shock as a deep, almost suffocating pressure squeezed her heart and lungs.

Clutching her heart with nerveless fingers, Rogue panted in astonishment at the feeling, "What the hell was that Cajun?"

Placing a long, slim finger against his lips, Remy pursed them, "Shhh…" He motioned for her to be silent and stood there, his arms loose at his sides and his eyes closed. As Rogue watched in fascination, she could just see his chest as it rose and fell in time with his breathing. An electric current buzzed through her as she realized that they were breathing in sync.

With some trepidation, Rogue closed her eyes and stood still. There. She could feel it now, a faintly familiar sensation that coursed through her body. Every atom of her being was throbbing in sync, her blood pumped through her system and her muscles twitched at the change in the normal function. Slowly her eyes reopened in amazement.

From the corner of her eye, Rogue could see Remy haltingly take a step forward. She frowned unconsciously at the realization that he wasn't moving by choice; his legs were shaking slightly even through the jeans and his face had a strained, pinched look to it.

"Remy…" she gasped softly in the dim environment, "stop…please…"

He grunted with the effort to speak, "Remy wants ta chère…but can't…somet'ings pullin' on Gambit."

Feeling the slow, gripping pulse as it flowed through her own body Rogue finally understood what he was talking about. Quickly, she moved over and stood next to Remy. Glancing up at him through her lashes, she shyly bit her bottom lip as she moved her bare hand and clasped it around his nerveless fingers. "Ah can't jus' let yah go alone, now can ah?" she asked, her voice echoing in the silence as a husky chuckle followed.

The unreadable look in his eyes as he caught her look was enough for now. Remy took a step forward. And another and before Rogue knew what was going on, she was being tugged along. Her body was still with uncertainty; if the freaky boulders were the reason why they kept jumping from place to place, Remy was right…how could they know whether they were going to end up someplace overly dangerous? A place that could be not only dangerous, but also at such a degree where they couldn't get themselves out? A weak whimper escaped her as Remy reached out and touched the tip of the rock with his forefinger.

Then the world melted into a kaleidoscope of nothingness.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Humming softly, Ororo glided down the parquet hallway, her long, glowing white blonde hair flowing down her back, swinging lightly with every step and the gentle scent of fresh flowers and spring rain trailing along behind her. It was the middle of the day and the sun shone brilliantly through the occasional window as she walked through the mansion. Oddly enough, the silence that seemed to have invaded the house wasn't deafening, it was simply a calming sensation that seemed to soothe the soul.

It had been a long day for Storm, but to her working in the gardens and landscape surrounding the mansion was worth the fatigue that swept through her body. Peaceful, just her, the flora and the fauna; the majority of the mansion's inhabitants knew better than to disturb her when she was elbow deep into the cool, rich loamy earth.

Walking through the eastern wing of the X-mansion, heading towards the kitchen, Ororo stopped suddenly in shock as a strange sort of keening sound reached her ears. It sounded like a painful mix between a kicked puppy and nails on a chalkboard; utterly indescribable and unnaturally painful for anyone to listen to. Halting before a tall, thick oak door, Storm hesitantly knocked softly and waited for an answer.

"Come in" Or at least she supposed that's what was said, to Storm it had sounded like a mangled sob.

Slipping her slim mocha colored hand around the brass knob; she twisted gently and squeezed in through the small opening. Inside the room was like a cave. The windows were shut tight, slim tendrils of gleaming light fighting through tenuous gaps, and the single light that was on was a dim table side lamp which barely illuminated the space around the bedside. In better times it was easy to see that the inhabitant was a girl who enjoyed everything her gender had to offer; there was clothing strewn about, shoes huddled in a corner as well as magazines and the occasional book. Then there were the more telltale items, these neatly arranged on the desk along the far wall, the mangled insides of what appeared to be several computers were dangling off the sides while several technical books had been opened to various pages and left to gather dust in their disarray.

On the bed, covered by crumpled sheets and a comforter was the slight shape of Kitty Pryde, shaking and sobbing as though her life was ending. Every so often she would throw back her head; her curling brown hair frizzed in a chaotic halo around her face, and keen her pain, anger and frustration to the previously empty room.

Feeling as though her heart was breaking alongside Kitty's, Storm nearly rushed to her student's side and carefully perching beside her on the bed's edge, she wrapped her arms around Shadowcat's shaking shoulders, pulling the young x-woman against her body in a comforting gesture. "Shhh…there, there Kitty. It'll be all right, what happened now?" Ororo soothed, her voice calm as she slowly ran her hand over Kitty's tangled mane, "Did you and Piotr have a fight? I'm sure everything will work itself out dear."

In bewilderment, Storm reared back as her words had the opposite effect than she had planned. Instead of calming down even a little, Kitty only sobbed harder and louder, nearly falling off of the bed at one point until Ororo had quickly grabbed her before she hit the hard wood floor.

"Kitten, dear…please, what is the matter?"

Gasping and sniffling, Kitty raised her head slightly while wrapping her arms tightly around her still shaking torso. Her eyes were almost swollen completely shut, red rimmed and puffy, her lashes bedewed with the evidence of her tears; her face though was pale and cold. Like marble almost. Kitty glared as best she could through her puffed eyes, "Are you telling me that you like don't know?" she rasped harshly, her normally chipper voice almost destroyed by the magnitude of tears she had shed.

Storm shook her head slowly, her bright sapphire eyes bright with concern and trepidation. A growling laugh ripped its way from Kitty's svelte body, as more tears began to cascade down her already drenched cheeks. "Scott like convinced the professor-, "she gasped as if in pain, and breathing deeply in through her nose took a minute before she could continue, "-he convinced the professor to pull the plug on Rogue and Remy." Wailing piteously, she buried her face into Storm's shoulder as the older woman stared, dumbstruck at the poster of a boyband just above the headboard of the bed.

Anger ripped through Storm and unconsciously, wind began to whip gently through the enclosed room as the African Goddess's emotions started to take control of her body. Replacing Kitty's sobbing figure back on the bed, Storm nearly floated to the bedroom door and forcefully shoved it open, and turning right, slammed it shut; the sound echoing through the empty corridor.

The previously glowing hallway darkened as Ororo's emotions completely overshadowed the natural weather. Lightning flashed and blazed across the ground as thunderclouds rolled through Bayville.

_Storm._

She ignored the firm voice in her head and continued to head towards Charles' private study, her shining hair creating a silky halo of static.

A figure appeared before her, short, stocky and hairier than most. Logan raised his hands, making as if to grab her upper arms and stop her from storming into the professor's office, "'Ro, this ain't like you. What's goin' on darlin'?"

_Storm, Ororo…listen to Logan._

In an uncharacteristic move, Storm's lips slashed, becoming a sneer that was almost Rogue worthy. "What is wrong with me, Logan? Why don't we ask the professor." She replied silkily, again choosing to ignore the insistent tone of Charles' voice in her head as it pleaded with her to remain calm, that everything would be explained sooner or later.

Moving faster than usual through the mansion, Ororo quickly came to Charles' private study. Forgoing the socially acceptable knock, she instead electrocuted the door, shattering it into splinters that snowed over the ground like razorblade flakes.

"Hello Charles."

Xavier was sitting beside one of his bookshelves, skimming through a weighty tome at the expected entrance of Storm and Logan. At the chilling tone of Storm's voice, he glanced up at his two most senior x-men and gave them a somewhat forced smile. "Good afternoon Ororo, Logan. What seems to be the trouble today?"

Wolverine kept back, sensing the force behind Storm's rage. Her eyes were white with suppressed anger, which she suddenly unleashed at the professor full force with no regret. "How _dare_ you Charles," she hissed, seething with explosive fury, "what gives you the absolute right to take away two innocent lives?"

His eyebrows high into his hairline, Logan stared at Xavier in complete shock, "Chuck, ya never told 'Ro?" he growled, his rage radiating through his body making his hair stand on end.

With a sigh he replaced the book in his lap to the shelf, toggled the joystick on his chair and moved around to his desk. An empty, dejected look entered the Professor's expressive eyes as he looked on his pupils, "Sadly when the information was given out to the mansion about the meeting two days from now, you were out in the gardens Ororo. It seems your informant was a little lax with the complete details."

Storm stiffened at the accusation against Kitty, "What meeting." She demanded immediately.

The professor tilted his head slightly in Wolverine's direction, "Scott came in earlier, wishing to congratulate us on our reappearance to the Mansion. While he was here, Jean and Logan were gracious enough to join us as well for the conversation; Scott made it perfectly clear his opinion on the happenings with Rogue and Remy. He put forth the option of…releasing them. On the off chance that they wouldn't come to from their comas, of course."

Logan snorted in disbelief, "Smug ass, one eyed-"

"_Logan_, please."

Storm shook her head in astonishment, "Scott actually wanted to end their lives?" shaken by the news, she clasped her arms tightly around her torso as rain began to hit the roof of the mansion, echoing the desolate feeling that had burrowed into her core.

Charles shook his head firmly, "No, he believed what he was suggesting was for the good of the team's morale. I couldn't quite see his point, but nevertheless I decided to leave the ultimate decision up to the rest of the team. Hence, the meeting in two days time."

Storm's eyes narrowed, "Does Hank know?"

"Yes, I know." Hank walked into the room, pointedly ignoring the flurry of wood slivers that carpeted the floor and stepping carefully, his fur rumpled and sticking up in clumps, twinkie crumbs and goo stained his lab coat, the sides flapping gently as he moved towards the trio. Though covered in thick, blue fur, his face was etched in permanent misery and behind his glasses anyone could easily see that his eyes were a painful looking shade of red. "Charles was good enough to inform me right after the discussion with Cyclops. It's also why I'm here." he stated quietly to the group.

"Somethin' happen Blue?"

Hank shook his head at Logan, "No, no…not at all. I came straight from the infirmary and as of yet there has not been much of a change in them." Beast cast a questioning glance towards the professor, "I was actually hoping that you would be so kind as to come down sometime today and try again to find them."

The professor nodded genially, spreading his hands palm upwards in a gesture of acquiescence, "Of course, the sooner we find them the better."

Fidgeting slightly, Hank winced. Plucking his glasses from his nose, he began to slowly clean them off on a clean patch on his lab coat. The professor speared him with a firm look, "And I can tell that is not the only reason you are here my friend."

Storm and Logan both found seats in the room and sat, watching Beast as he fought for the right words to say. Storm was astounded to say the least, in all the time that she had known Hank he had never had such issues with finding the proper thing to say; it was an ominous sign to say the least. Beast coughed gently and nodded, "You're right of course Charles. I came to say that I cannot be a part of the decision in two days time."

Logan launched himself to his feet and threw his wiry body at Hank, grabbing his coat lapels in a death grip, "What?" he snarled angrily, "What the hell Hank, yeh're their Doc for God's sake! Why would ya let Cyke pull the plug?"

Reaching up, Hank gripped Logan's hands and carefully, but with not a little force, disengaged the grip that threatened to tear his coat into multiple pieces. A sea of emotions raged in Beast's warm brown eyes as he focused his gaze on the professor, choosing to ignore the betrayed look on Storm's face and the fury that was plain on Logan's.

"If there is anything that I am not doing Wolverine, it is allowing Scott to "pull the plug" as you put it so eloquently." Hank began softly, "The reason I have decided to stay out of the ultimate decision is because I am their doctor, and as such can be no part in a decision to destroy their lives. Scott's rationale for such an event is false and agenda based, and I will have nothing to do with that." He tilted his head in Charles' direction, "You know my choice regardless. I do not believe my presence will matter overly much to the rest of the team."

"Hank, please…consider the facts, we may need your common sense to deal with some of the more aggressive students." Storm begged, "It's what Rogue and Remy would have wanted."

Logan snorted in derision, "Right. C'mon 'Ro, none of us know what those two would want. Hell, that's the whole reason behind this dumbass meeting in the first place."

Backing away from his desk, the professor slowly moved towards the door, cutting through his fellow x-men on his way, "And that my friends, is why I am on my way down to the infirmary. I shall put forth my best efforts to bring those two back; let us just hope that I can find them in time."

All four left the office and began making their way towards the center of the mansion where two of the many elevators to the subbasement were hidden. Along the way, they passed many of the students engaged in their daily pursuits: Amara and Jubilee were arguing over the latest Cosmo; Roberto, Ray and Sam were shooting at each other in the living room, their Xbox working in overdrive. Bobby, Rahne and Jamie were outside in the yard, playing ultimate Frisbee-each cheating with the usage of their powers. As they walked, Storm and Hank shared a small smile at the sight of Bobby slipping off of his still new ice slide and falling into Jamie who, in turn, had several of his clones accidently run into Rahne in her wolf form. The crash shook the front windows but the trio's laughter reassured the teachers that everything was alright.

In the elevator, Hank stared off into space and allowed his eyes to glaze over as his brain worked in overtime. "Charles," he mused wonderingly, "Just out of curiosity, but what are the chances of finding our southern friends if we were to include another telepath?"

"Well," Xavier replied, his calm voice echoing through the small space, "depending on the telepath and their strength, it might be able to increase our chances. It certainly could not hurt our efforts."

"So," Storm questioned softly, "Who?"

The elevator doors dinged open and the group moved out, down the hall and to the left. The sterile hallway blinding in white walls and chrome steel accents were anything but the homey atmosphere of the above ground part of the mansion. And yet each of these mutants felt just at home in the alien atmosphere.

"Red." Logan grunted around the cigar he had plucked from somewhere, still unlit, "She's the only one."

Xavier shook his head, "Though I agree with your assessment of her capabilities Logan, I feel loathe to include her in this search." Quickly moving ahead of the group, Hank punched in the four digit code required to enter the lab.

Storm's look of incredulity was not lost on the three men, "Charles, be reasonable. Out of all the telepaths we know, Jean is the only one we trust to not mess around in their heads." Walking into the room after the professor's wheelchair and Logan, Storm quickly grabbed a seat close to the observation window so she could keep an eye both on the comatose figures as well as the professor.

He shook his head, "I am sorry Ororo, but I do not believe that Jean has her abilities finely tuned to the degree necessary for this operation. Undoubtedly if I were to choose anyone she would be the ideal, but I cannot guarantee that she is ready. And I do not wish to jeopardize Rogue and Remy's health on the off chance."

Sitting at his computer and his fingers clacking away at the keyboard, Hank kept his gaze firmly on the monitor as he became up to date with the pair's recent medical information. "Alright then Charles," he asked, his fingers still typing out information, "Then who would you suggest in her stead?"

Rolling his chair next to Storm, the Professor watched the inactivity in the other room, "I have a colleague in Boston, she just relegated there from New York. She is young, but her abilities are far more finely tuned than Jean's at the moment. And it is possible that Jean might be able to learn something from her as well." He answered calmly.

"Who's this chick, Chuck?"

A jolt of recognition forced Hank's head away from the computer screen, "Her? Really Charles, do you believe that's wise?"

Ororo raised her hand in the time honored sign for a question, "Um, I'm with Logan. Who is this woman?"

"She is the daughter of an old friend of mine. Her name is Emma Frost, her primary mutation is telepathy and as a natural talent she is nearly as powerful as Jean."

Hank sputtered in shock, "And we ruled her out ages ago at the realization that she was working for the Hellfire Club."

A soft chuckle escaped Xavier and he nodded in agreement, "It is true that she was working for the Hellfire establishment in New York. As their White Queen I do believe. Fortunately for us, she grew bored with their practices and decided to form her own mutant safe haven and school just outside of Boston. In fact, I do believe she owes me a favor or two…this would be a wonderful opportunity to use them."

Logan's thick eyebrow raised far into his hairline as his smirk curled around the stub of his cigar, "Owes ya a favor, eh?"

"Logan! Behave!" Storm scowled and slapped at him lightly before turning back to Xavier, "Professor, if this is what you believe is necessary and might help Rogue and Remy then I believe I speak for Hank and Logan as well, please get her here quickly."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Something was touching her hair.

Growling softly, Rogue batted her hand around her head fiercely, swatting at whatever bug was in love with her styling products. When her hand came in contact with something that was _not_ a fly, her bright eyes flew open in fear.

And came face to face with an elephant's trunk. Which happened to be attached to an awfully large elephant. A stifled shriek burbled its way from her throat as Rogue quickly scrambled backwards away from the giant animal. Suddenly the onslaught of zoo noises assaulted her senses. Stumbling upright, Rogue's nose wrinkled at the smells in the elephant pen and was forced to clap her hands over her hears to avoid being made deaf at the shrieks and howls from the surrounding cages.

A calculating glance around the darkened area told her that Remy was nowhere to be found. _Though that ain't too surprisin' tah be honest_, she thought wrly as her head swiveled back and forth trying to find a way out of the elephant's pen.

Throwing caution to the winds she rested her head between two of the bars and called loudly over the din of animal calls, "Remy? Sugah? Yah 'round here?"

A high sharp voice that definitely wasn't Remy's answered back, "Who's there?"

"Aw damn it." Rogue muttered, along with a few other choice words. Hurriedly, Rogue shoved away from the bars and dashed around towards the elephant, hiding just behind its leg. She glared at it, "If yah dare do anything, ah swear Dumbo…" But then a flashlight bearing figure appeared and she fell silent, watching it as it moved slowly around the containment area.

Whoever it was gently flicked the light into various cages and Rogue was dismayed to see that they were oddly thorough in their search. "Come out from wherever you're hiding." The voice demanded and Rogue was stunned to realize that not only was it not Remy's voice, but it was female.

Not wanting to be caught like a criminal, Rogue screwed up her courage and moved slowly out from behind the large pachyderm towards the weak beam of light that was flashing in her direction. "Over here." she called hesitantly, waving carefully as the light poured all around her. Squinting into the beam Rogue could barely make out the woman behind the flashlight, she was all slender limbs and long hair.

"Who are you and what the hell are you doing in Rosie's pen?" the woman demanded harshly.

Her arm raised up and her eyes squinting to defuse the torrent of light, Rogue ignored her, "Hey, yah think yah can turn down the light for a minute?"

A faint click reached her ears, the light was shut off, and lowering her arm Rogue was stunned temporarily at the sight before her. Then a mental groan ripped its way through her brain. Figures, circus…gyspy heritage…not to mention that voice.

"I asked you once, what the hell are you doing in Rosie's pen." Wanda Maximoff glared at Rogue, her long auburn and black tinted hair curly madly down her back and if she looked hard enough Rogue could see a large pair of gold hoops dangling in her ears. _Mah god, it's lahke Magneto never happened…she's almost normal! Still bit of a bitch though. _Strangely, Rogue was oddly comforted by the knowledge that even without her father around, Wanda was still bitchy.

"Look, let meh outta here. Never meant to get stuck with Dumbo back there, jus' kinda happened."

Grumbling under her breath, Wanda's double pulled an old fashioned key from a secret pocket in her skirt and placing it in the slot quickly tumbled the lock. Replacing the key in its pocket, she grasped the door and with a grunt of effort it swung open, a loud, rusty squeal echoing in the dim space.

Quickly stepping out of her cramped prison, Rogue grinned at her savior/captor, "Thanks Sugah, hey yah haven't seen a smarmy Cajun anywhere have yah?"

Wanda shoved the metal door back, a loud click confirming it was locked once again before she turned to face the stowaway. She crossed her arms and jutted her hip out as she considered the slight woman before her. Unnaturally pale and slim, her hair was a unique auburn with white stripes and striking green eyes that glittered from beneath her bangs. What struck Wanda as truly strange was the fact that the pale creature before her was covered from almost head to toe, hardly any skin was visible or touchable.

Her vivid blue eyes narrowed, Wanda eyed Rogue suspiciously, "Cajun? Not around here. Why? What are you two doing here?"

"Dunno," Rogue shrugged," Ah promise, we neveh planned on actually comin' here. It jus' kinda happened."

She stood there for a minute, her steely gaze unmoving from Rogue. Then turning on her heel, Wanda began to walk away towards the far end of the area, "Come on." She shouted over her shoulder, and continued on without waiting.

Rogue grumbled to herself, but quickly picked up her pace as she tried to walk side by side with the Scarlet Witch. She scowled at the other woman's back as they walked through the sawdust covered grounds. Luckily for Rogue the sounds and smells of the animals lessened the further they walked, and turning a corner they were greeted by the sight of a large striped tent. "Oh mah god. This really is the circus, ain't it? Ah was just hopin' we were just at a lil zoo or somethin'.

Ignoring the southern girl, Wanda continued walking, moving past the huge tent towards what appeared to be a bevy of carriages, all colorful and bright with flags and streamers fluttering in the breeze. The sun was setting, casting a darkening orange glow around the carriages. People were silhouetted by the glow, their faces, blurred in the shadows, were positioned towards the two approaching figures as they walked through the campgrounds. A murmur of voices swirled around both women as they moved towards a blaze that outshone the setting sun, what Rogue could quickly see was a bonfire in the center of the grounds.

Sitting on logs around the fire were three figures, two lean and one slender with a feminine build. Wanda jerked her hand, gesturing for Rogue to stay put, and walking up to the trio flicked one of the male figures where Rogue assumed his ear was. A howling German obscenity confirmed her guess.

The low hum of voices barely reached her ears, guttural and melodic at the same time. If she strained herself enough she could pick out the random German word, phrase, and even sometimes the occasional English word. Rogue forced herself to remain still, her eyes trained on the fire making sure to act like she wasn't trying to make eye contact with these people. Who knew what Carnies would do to a stranger, especially one who couldn't even pay for a performance let alone a bag of stale popcorn.

The muttering ceased and when Wanda walked back towards Rogue, she wasn't alone. One of the two men came with her. A familiar husky chuckle interrupted her stare contest with the flickering fire and Rogue's head snapped up, green eyes meeting red on black.

Remy grinned then allowed his eyes to take a long good look at Rogue. He whistled low and shook his head, "Damn chère, where in l'enfer did ya end up?"

Rogue glared at him as out of the corner of her eye she could see Wanda smirk, and slapping her gloved hands roughly against her thighs, ignoring the dust as it flew in a swirl around her, she snarled, "Ain't mah fault ah had tah end up in the elephant pen. Where'd yah turn up at?"

"In de middle o' de trapeze act."

"And," Wanda interjected dryly, "apparently he was the hit of the show. Kurt mentioned that more than one woman was throwing her clothing into the ring. They had to shut down for fifteen minutes just so that the animals wouldn't choke on a thong in case one of them ate something on accident."

Rogue snorted in unsurprise and raised an eyebrow in Remy's direction, "Quoi?" he asked innocently, fluttering his eyelashes.

Ignoring him, Rogue turned towards Wanda, "Ah'm sorry, didja say Kurt?" she asked carefully, desperate to not let the kernel of hope she felt break the surface. With the barest flinch she could feel Remy as he placed his large hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently. Gratitude for him almost engulfed Rogue, making her a little weak in the knees. From the strange look the Scarlet Witch gave her, Rogue figured that she must have had a dire expression on her face.

"Sure, he's over there." She threw her right thumb over her shoulder back towards the fire where, if Rogue craned her neck, she could see the other two figures watching them curiously.

Twisting her head, Rogue caught Remy's gaze and sighed breathily as he nodded in answer to her unspoken question. Her brother was here, in this circus. Why that surprised her she had no idea considering the way life had been going recently, but it made her happy to know that some things never changed.

The three of them walked over to the fire, joining Kurt and the girl with him. She and Remy sat together on one log as Wanda took the last empty one next to Kurt and, Rogue was amazed to see, Amanda Sefton.

Kurt grinned at them, his fangs glinting merrily in the firelight, "Guten abend, Streifen." As she gaped at him astonishment, Rogue was internally startled to see Amanda shift closer to Kurt and wrap her arm firmly around his shoulders and shoot her a deadly look.

Smirking, Rogue stuck her tongue at him and chuckled, "Guten abend fuzzy."

Lighthearted laughter echoed around the fire as the people who understood German took in the carefree banter between the oddly pale American and the indigo furred German.

Nodding at Kurt and Amanda, Rogue smiled, "Ah'm Rogue."

"Kurt Wagner, and zis is meine girlfriend Amanda Sefton." Rogue smiled gently as he leaned over and pecked her on the cheek, Amanda coloring a soft pink beneath her dusky skin. As she watched, she noticed that Kurt winked across the crackling fire, "Und I see zat you have met Wanda."

A semi-amused grunt came from Wanda's area.

Smacking Remy on the upper thigh, Rogue leant him a deaf ear as he whined about the bruises she had left, "And ah believe yah already met Remy here."

Nightcrawler winked a brilliant yellow orb at the duo, "Ah, yes…how many thongs vas it meine freund? Fifteen?"

Rearing back, Rogue hauled off and smacked Gambit firmly upside the head; Kurt and Wanda laughed heartily as Amanda giggled softly. "Fifteen?" Rogue exclaimed, "Remy LeBeau, ah swear tah god, yah're such a man whore!"

Wrapping an arm around her covered waist, Remy squeezed Rogue slightly and grinned down at her indignant face, "Hey now p'tite…Remy didn' keep any o' dose. He's waitin' on a special pair." He winked as she guffawed in hysterical laughter.

"And yah'll be waitin' foh quite a while sugah,' she replied, wiping a tear away with a finger. Rogue felt comfortable sitting here with just Remy, Kurt, Amanda and Wanda, oddly enough. It struck her even more strangely that Kurt was _normal_ looking, at least normal for him. The loss of the image inducer meant he could be himself and Rogue could see just how free it made him; it brought to mind the wonder of how her brother had been when he was younger. And not for the first time did she miss the lost time between them.

A second thought occurred to her as well; if Kurt was his usual furry self did this mean that all of their powers were active? She'd have to talk to Remy later, see what he thought.

"Ok, so now that you're back with your 'smarmy Cajun'," Wanda air quoted with her fingers, "I'll ask you both this time, what the hell are you two doing here?"

Rogue and Remy glanced at each other, trying to read the other's mind as to what story they should use. His eyes blank, Remy mouthed "smarmy" at her and wrinkled his nose in a grotesque mimic of his usual wink.

Taking a deep breath, Rogue threw him a pleading glance, her eyes begging him to stop her before she did something incredibly stupid. When no aid came from the Acadian's corner, Rogue took matters into her own hands and chose the rash option. She told the truth.

Not the entire thing of course. As she told their story, Rogue never mentioned that she was actually in a coma and that apparently the entire episode was merely occurring in her brain, nor did she get into why Remy was with her (but that was more to do with the fact that she still had no clear idea how he came to join her). Instead, she told them of her escapades through Chicago, California, some unnamed mountain range in a convent, and finally their joint adventure in Vegas.

"-And that's how Remy and ah came tah be found here in…" she trailed off looking sheepish because she had no idea where they even were.

"We're near the Black Forest." Amanda supplied her voice soft and strangely cold.

"…the Black Forest." Rogue was deadpanned, "Weh're in Germany. Damn." A panicked look entered her eyes and her body went stiff as she stared into the fire. The faint edge of Kurt and Amanda could barely be made out. Remy surreptitiously reached down and grasped her hand in his and squeezed as lightly as he could. Germany had too much meaning for Rogue to ever make her comfortable there.

Kurt nodded, "Ja, you two are velcome to stay for as long as you vould like." He raised his arms in welcome, "Our circus is your circus!"

Later that night, the warmly scented darkness flowed over Rogue's body as she lay sideways on a thin, albeit comfortable pallet in one of the brightly colored wagons among the troupe. A thick and soft blanket covering her, the moonlight dripped into the cramped wagon through a small canvas window slit into the side, its pale brilliance illuminating her strained and tired face.

With a slight start she felt something rub up against her back, Rogue forced herself still as it slowly made its way up and around her waist. With an inaudible hiss of relief she realized that it was simply Remy's arm that had just wrapped around her.

"Roguey."

The ghost of a smile whispered across her lips as she answered back just as softly, "Yeah Remy?"

"Ya asleep?"

"Whatcha think Gambit?"

"Remy t'ink non."

She chuckled, a raspy sound that caused the arm around her waist to tighten for a split second, "Well then Remy woulda been raght."

Both fell silent for a few dragging minutes, the rustling of the wind through the closely knit trees and the sound of the crickets dancing through the small space.

"Roguey?"

"What Cajun." Rogue sighed tiredly.

"Ya d'accord chère?"

"Ah dunno." She murmured slowly.

Her eyelids lowered unconsciously as she felt his gloved fingers gently caress her stomach, the muscles twitching, "Remy knows what ya mean p'tite. 'S weird seeing Bleu et sa petite amie. Not ta mention de Bucket Head's fille…_merde_, Remy was half expectin' ta see Johnny pop up from somewhere."

"Ah know just what yah mean, ah was waitin' tah see Speedy and the others…and it was odd seeing Kurt lookin' so…_normal._" Rogue had to stop as the awe in her voice gave away the turmoil going on inside of her. Cursing silently, she could feel the hot, searing feel of tears as they threatened to escape; gasping quietly, Rogue forced herself with every bit of her steel like willpower to not give into the almost painful urge.

"He looked happy, oui?"

Not trusting herself, Rogue could only nod. "Remy knows chère." He whispered softly into her hair, "Il sait and he'll do what he can. If ya'll let him, d'accord?" They both knew that Kurt's complete acceptance of his appearance meant a great deal, and Rogue wanted that so much for herself, she could almost sense the overwhelming experience of being at least what could almost be considered normal. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that normal could ever be a true part of their everyday lives.

Wriggling from beneath his grip, Rogue quickly flipped herself around, being extremely careful to not touch his exposed skin, and came face to face with the Cajun charmer. "Ah think ah want tah Remy, ah really really want tah." Slowly, an uncharacteristically gentle smile crossed her face as she met his glowing, intense gaze. Ducking her head beneath his chin, Rogue made sure that her hair covered everything important and with a relaxing sigh finally fell asleep.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Standing in one of the empty bedrooms on the upper floor of the mansion, Henry stared out of the window into the windy afternoon; the leaves whipping to and fro with the force of the almost gale like winds as they raced through the tree's branches with a vengeance.

He winced inwardly, "_Storm must be having kittens right about now_." He thought to himself.

"See anything yet Doc?" Logan questioned as he meandered into the room. He had smelled Hank from down the hall and knew just what the normally busy doctor would be doing in an empty room, especially today.

"No my friend. The professor is not back yet, but I do wish that he would hurry. Otherwise we will no longer have grounds to keep." Turning around, Hank allowed the curtain to sweep back into its original position.

Wolverine allowed a low chuckle to escape unashamedly, "Yeah, 'Ro sure does have one wicked temper tantrum don't she?"

Placing a claw to his pursed lips, Beast gave a small smile as he carefully nodded in agreement, "Just don't let her hear you say that. Otherwise I get the feeling you'd soon find yourself missing a few important things."

Instinctively Logan's hand moved south towards his belt, causing Hank to laugh aloud for the first time in over a week, "No, no Logan…you misunderstand me. Besides, those would just grow back, wouldn't hey? I get the impression Storm would prefer to leave a more painful and lasting impression."

"Hmm…that I would; Logan, don't stand so close to any electrical outlets and we'll be just fine." Storm commented as she joined the men in the room. Her face was serene, but her eyes crackled with underlying emotion and neither man was fooled by her outward appearance; this was a good day to tread carefully in the X-Mansion. Walking up to the window she stole Hank's spot, grasping the delicate lace curtain she pulled it back and nonchalantly inspected the grounds and driveway, "They aren't here yet?"

"Gee 'Ro," Logan said dryly, "figure that one out on ya own?"

Hank groaned at the look that passed between the animal and the goddess and knew he had to step in, "People, please, a little decorum? At least until the professor gets back, and we get everything settled; then you two can just hack each other to pieces in the Danger Room."

Storm nodded from her position by the windowsill, "That's fine, but a warning Wolverine. I plan to give you a run for your money."

Logan's upper lip curled back in a fierce smile, "Bring it sweetheart, be nice to have a challenge for once."

The sounds of the students parading through the mansion wafted through the floor's vents, coloring the air with their exuberant noises, cutting into the tension throughout the room swifter than a butcher knife. All three figures in the room visibly relaxed at the reminder that they were adults and authority figures for those same children. Storm tilted her head in Logan's direction in acquiescence, "Later then Wolverine."

The low rumble of an engine drifted up from the driveway and the thundering of student's feet put a stop to the animosity between Storm and Wolverine for the time being. Swiftly, Storm yanked back the gossamer curtain and three pairs of eyes hungrily scanned the driveway and the round before the house; a satisfied collective sigh went up at the sight of the professor's Mercedes Benz running softly just beyond the mansion's front door.

"_Would the three of you please join our guest and me downstairs?" _

Without a word, they left the room and quickly made their way down just one of the many staircases within the mansion. At the front door they were greeted by the sight of every younger mutant pressing their faces against the normally pristine windows. Storm winced at the sight of strawberry jam smeared low along one of the base windows; Jamie had been eating a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich and must have forgotten that he'd spilled some on his shirt before dashing with the rest of the cavalry to see the stranger.

Logan lightly growled at the children and unleashed one set of claws; the younger students walked quickly back towards the main staircase but the older ones, Ray, Roberto, and Jubilee among them, simply laughed at his time honored threat. Inwardly, Logan promised himself that he'd give the runts a run for their lives in the Danger Room once everything had settled down finally.

As the senior x-men prepared to meet the professor and his guest, the younger motley crew was hiding at the top of the main staircase, waiting and hoping to catch sight of the enigmatic visitor. In the day since the Professor had left the mansion, gossip had run rampant through the many floors and levels, infecting and inflaming the student's interest. There had been various guesses, Roberto and Bobby both had money that the mystery guest was some tragic angst ridden new student…of course they were also betting that the student was a girl with legs that went on for miles. In their hormone infused heads it would unconsciously make up for Rogue, the beautiful untouchable. Jubilee, Amara and Rahne all had their heads together, their whispers barely carrying down to the lower floor; the others were silent, their heads poking around corners and through the railing as they craned their heads for a better view.

Scott and Jean were nowhere to be found. Once the announcement about Rogue and Remy's impending decision had come out, Scott had made himself scarce, and Jean, ever the loyal girlfriend, had reluctantly followed along behind. No one had a clear idea where they were, but then the rest of mansion really hadn't bothered themselves with Cyclops and Jean since word got out that Cyke was thirsting for Rogue and Remy's demise, unless it was to target the pair for standard mansion-esque torture. Though technically not a member of the mansion any longer, Tabitha had actually gone so far as to throw mini bombs in each of Scott's shoes…making sure that they were presence activated, waiting for an unsuspecting foot and then _pop!_

Of course when Scott had come dashing down to the infirmary with a smoking big toe, Hank had merely handed him the peroxide and said go to town. Half the mansion learned some interesting new words that day; thankfully Jamie and Rahne hadn't been around.

All along the upstairs railing, the eavesdroppers fell silent simultaneously as the solid oak front door opened slowly. Through the sun drenched entrance rolled the professor, his wheelchair humming along the parquet floor. Behind him, silhouetted in the brilliant sunshine was a tall, slim figure that walked smoothly into the foyer. She was statuesque, piercing pale blue eyes and long, silky pure blonde hair that was curled gently down her back, stopping only midway. High above on the landing a low whistle could barely be heard, and only if one was really paying attention (like Logan was) could one hear a faint, "hubba hubba," follow closely after.

She was dressed in a pure, spotless, white pantsuit and her makeup was almost startling it was so pale and perfectly done. Arching one perfectly plucked eyebrow, she coolly gazed around the large entrance way, her eyes slowly taking in the somewhat scuffed flooring, making their way up to the greeting committee (a delicate sneer came across her face at the sight of Logan). From there, she moved upwards, taking in the large chandelier that dangled precariously from the middle of the ceiling to the landing where a large contingent of teenage mutants were gawking at her like she was the second coming. At such a welcome, her sneer widened and her ice blue eyes narrowed.

"Well Charles," she stated crisply, her upper crust Bostonian accent appearing for the first time, "I see that you did not exaggerate." Carelessly, she walked forward until she was level with Xavier, standing before his three teachers. Her nose wrinkled as ghostly whispers of their thoughts snuck across to her head. Already she could tell that she was going to have problems with the small hairy one. The big blue monkey man and the beautiful African woman were going to be easy…but the other was going to watch her like a hawk. At least, that's what she had gathered if his thoughts were of any indication, they were too rough and tumble to gain an accurate understanding just yet.

Charles turned his head and looked at her questioningly, "About what my dear?"

She tilted her head, allowing her perfectly coifed blonde hair to cascade over her shoulder, "You do need my help." As far as she could sense, there was not another telepath as strong as she in the entire mansion.

The short burly one snorted and eyed her with distrust, "Chuck, do we really need my size Barbie for this? Red can do the job."

"But can she do it without wiping their minds clean?" She ticked the reasons on her long, delicate fingers, "without erasing vital brain functions needed for daily life? Creating split personalities? I honestly would love to see someone try that with absolutely no practice at all, would be quite entertaining." Shyness was not a personality trait that Emma Frost could claim, she firmly believed that what she wanted was hers. It was only because she owed Charles a couple of favors that she was even in Bayville to begin with.

Growling deep in his barrel shaped chest, Logan glared at the much taller woman and unleashed his claws for the second time that morning, "Are you threatening them?"

The blonde waved a negligent hand, "Course not." Then hardening her eyes, she walked towards the man arguing with her; her skin glowing slightly until it became almost translucent. Every vein was a different facet, the very flawlessness of her skin highlighted by the brilliance that now shown in the midmorning light. Standing before Logan, she bent down, "I dare you." She hissed venomously in a low voice that nevertheless carried in the echoing silence surrounding them, "I'd love to see what happens to your claws when they try to go through pure diamond."

"Emma! Logan! Stop this now." Demanded the professor, his voice raising in response to the excited murmurs coming from above the stairs. "Now then, Emma, since you have already made the acquaintance of our resident Wolverine I'll just continue with the introductions."

"This is Ororo Munroe, otherwise known as Storm." Storm tilted her head to the side and smiled tightly at the younger woman, her blue eyes shadowed in worry. Emma inwardly flinched at the doubt and frustration that was radiating off of the woman in tidal waves, they were so forceful and full of pain.

"And our house doctor, Henry McCoy. His codename is Beast."

Beast bowed low to the ground and gripped her small, pale hand in his and kissed the air above it, "Welcome to our humble abode Ms. Frost, please call me Hank." Emma smiled at his gallantry and nodded graciously.

"And," Charles continued dryly, "As you can obviously tell, the majority of the school happens to be on the upper landing attending to this with avid attention."

"Yes, I can easily see and sense that Charles." She nodded, and unconsciously glanced out of the corner of her eye as a stray thought caught her attention. Her spine growing stiff, Emma's cheeks burned a bright pink color as she suddenly glared at the railings, "Alright, who thought that perverted little day dream?"

"I'm sorry?" asked Hank, confusion evident in his voice. Storm and Logan looked equally perplexed, though Wolverine's nose wrinkled as if he smelled something particularly interesting. A low chuckle danced across the room, which only served to raise Emma's ire. She knew he knew what was going on, but she'd be damned if she could prove it.

Emma's pale eyes burned hotly into the confused and embarrassed faces of the children above, "One of those darling children had a fascinating little day dream that included me in an interesting position, handcuffs, a swing and some whipped cream."

A strangled, choked laugh drifted down to the teachers, the rest of the students tittered nervously, unaware how this new person would act to such disrespect. Though if the…disagreement with Logan was any indication, it could not be pretty.

Xavier shook his head in astonishment, "Now Emma," he admonished, "I'm sure it wasn't one of the students!"

Closing her eyes, Emma's forehead wrinkled the merest fraction, denoting the amount of concentration it required to transfer the day dream to the professor. When her eyes reopened, she was oddly satisfied to see a dazed expression on his face.

"Roberto!"

The boy in question promptly transformed his body into a living flame and disappeared from the group down the hall towards the direction where it could only be assumed the dormitories were. Emma smirked at the remaining children, causing those who stayed to shift uncomfortably. It was alright, she would deal with the one called Roberto later.

Turning towards the professor, she smiled generously at the older man, "Thank you Charles. Now then, if I could please be shown to my room? I'm dreadfully tired after such a trip."

As she was escorted from the foyer by Hank, up the stairs and towards the spare guest rooms she nevertheless heard Logan from below, "Yeah, 'cause a trip from the Boston to Bayville in the jet is so long. Friggin' princess."

Her hair swaying across her back as she walked, no one saw the diabolical grin that crossed her perfect lips as the howl of surprise that followed her and the good doctor down the hallway towards her room. No one messes with the princess, least of all short, hairy, metal encrusted Neanderthals.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Evil noises interrupted Rogue's, for once, peaceful sleep. Blinking tiredly against the onslaught of daylight that poured in through the curtain's nooks and crannies, she realized that the noises she'd assumed were the heavy pitter patter of mutant children running and screaming was actually the early morning sounds of the circus coming to life and getting ready for another day and another performance.

Sitting up, she whipped back the patched curtain and swiftly shut her eyes, heartily cursing the invasive light as it struck her eyes too quickly. Blinking again, she opened the curtain again, this time much more slowly. A family of elephants paraded past, their trucks each grabbing the tail of their fellow as they trundled past. Delighted, Rogue reached beside her and fumbled the blankets looking for Remy so she could show him, but she was stunned and not a little dismayed to find that he had disappeared. Again.

"Damn antsy Cajun." She grumbled irritably as she struggled to wrench her body from the enveloping cocoon of blankets. With a startling gasp and a sharp tug, Rogue inexplicably found herself almost smothered by the warm and soft handmade quilts.

Closing her eyes, Rogue fought the urge to rip the blankets to shreds. Their newfound gypsy friends might not appreciate having their hard work torn into bits by some stranger. Dragging back the uppermost part away from her face and taking a deep breath, Rogue weakly called out, "Help! Someone!" As much as it galled her to actually ask for help, wrangling with the blankets from hell demanded that some aid to come to her rescue.

"Dost meine ears deceive me? Is zere a fair maiden calling for help?"

"Kurt!" she called, "Thank god! The blankets are attacking me and Remy disappeared." She pouted slightly, her shining green eyes twinkling at the sight of her brother's furry blue head as it popped into the caravan.

With a low chuckle, he extended a tridactyl hand and gripping the edge firmly, yanked the largest and most domineering blanket upwards.

"Oof." Rogue grunted lightly as she felt the world suddenly spin around her. Hitting the wooden floor of the wagon, she lay there spread eagle as her lungs fought for fresh air. Though she knew she was planted firmly on the ground, Rogue winced as the world refused to stop moving in a vicious spin cycle. "Thanks sugah," she said weakly, once the world had finally righted itself, "Stupid blankets, takin' advantage of a gal lahke that."

"Zey obviously are immune to your charms fraulein. But I am glad they attacked you like zis, for I have been wanting to speak vith you."

Shoving the blankets away from her slightly sweaty body, Rogue's eyes met his brilliant yellows ones. "Why?" she asked neutrally, fighting for a lack of inflection in her voice.

Crouching low to the ground, Kurt kindly helped her straighten the blankets and pillows on the ground. "Forgive me Rogue, but I haf been curious since you arrived…you are a mutant, ja?" Rogue looked at his face and could see the strain it had placed on his furry face to hold that in for so long.

"What makes yah think that?" It hurt more than she thought to act like she had no idea what he was talking about, the pain jolted through her heart.

His normally joyful face fell slightly at her vague answer, "Just a feeling, Streifen. For some strange reason….it is as if ve know each other from somevhere."

Rogue just sat there, her jaw slightly ajar and silent. This place, of all the places that she had been thrust into unexpectedly. Finally, someone had recognized her. And it was Kurt. She smiled gently at him, "Ah feel the same way Fuzzy." She replied softly.

"Ja. So, are you a mutant?" Rogue stifled at chuckle at the hopeful look on his face. It was strange, he looked like he was in his twenties at the very least, not the fifteen year old boy that she knew in Bayville, but his expressions and mannerisms obviously hadn't changed much in the following years, even in her mental delusions.

She shrugged one shoulder carefully, "What makes ya'll think that anyways?"

He snorted shortly and sent her a 'duh' glare, "Ve are not stupid Fraulein. Even if you are not a mutant, your friend Remy is."

Rogue gritted her teeth. There was nothing she could say to that, it was the obvious truth. Poor Remy, his eyes were always his downfall in the race for anonymity. "Would that make a difference?" she asked lightly, but there was an undercurrent of steel lacing her honey sweet tone.

Kurt laughed whole heartedly, "Nein! Course not!" he waved a hand in the air gesturing to himself, "Please, do not act as if ve are hypocrites!"

She released an unconscious deep breath, "Ah can't tell ya'll how glad that makes Remy and me." She cast her eyes downward in shame, "We haven't always been able tah depend on the kindness of strangers. 'S definitely a nahce change, that's foh sure."

"Please do not think me rude, but are you a mutant? Ja?"

Rogue laughed lightly, "Ya'll sure are persistent, aren't yah?"

Sitting on the pile of pillows and blankets, Kurt had the decency to look sheepish. His fur turned a fair shade of purple to Rogue's delight, "Ja, sorry…I just have zis feeling zat ve are connected somehow in part because ve are both mutants." His shoulders mimicked her very gallic shrug and he threw her a lopsided grin, a single gleaming white fang poking out from the side of his mouth.

"Well, yah sure are as annoyin' as a brother that's foh sure." She teased him as he laughed uproariously.

"Zat is vhat Wanda is always saying, but I think that she is just upset because her brother has left to go to America to be a big movie star."

Rogue held up a hand to stall him, "Let meh guess, Peter Lensherr?"

Kurt's expression turned to astonishment, "Ja! How did you know?!"

"Call it a lucky guess sugah." She grimaced in remembrance of Pietro's charm and sophistication. Now that she was back again with Remy it amazed her how desperate she must have gotten to have such a weak similarity lull her into thinking their personalities were anything near the same. Then she sighed and threw him a sheepish glance and nodded slowly, so he would understand what she was trying to tell him.

A howl of laugher rang through the caravan, ringing in her ears as Kurt hopped around and wrapped his furry arms tightly around her shoulders. Rogue flinched, but Kurt never noticed as he abruptly threw himself back and rocked on his heels, his tail lightly tapping the ground in anticipation.

"So? Vhat is it?" he asked excitedly, his lilting accent thickening as he spoke.

Not for the first time since she had been stuck in this endless Wonderland loop, Rogue glanced at her gloves. "It ain't as flashy as yourn or Remy's."

"That doesn't matter Fraulein." She looked up through her lashes and was surprised to find that he was looking at her as if in thought, "It vouldn't have mattered if you veren't a mutant at all. Amanda isn't. Ve are circus folk, ve don't judge." He joked, shooting her a heartfelt smile.

She fiddled with the fingers of her gloves and grinned sardonically, "Ever hear of a vampire? Well, ah'm the worst of the worst. Ah don't steal yah blood, ah just steal yah memories…yah life…yah very essence." She breathed in deeply then continued, "It don't last foh very long, but while it does…aw, while it does we both wish we were dead."

All semblance of joking having vanished, Kurt reached out slowly and gently rubbed his fingers against the smooth texture of her glove, "Ist zis vhy you are so covered up all ze time?"

She nodded, "It ain't foh mah protection, it's for ya'lls." She blinked fiercely in shock at the epiphany that rocketed through her mind. Was it really for their protection? Was none of the layers of clothing that she habitually wore day in and day out for her own protection? Protection against those who could learn that her supposed strength was in fact her very worst weakness, their sole purpose to use her powers against her. What good would it do anyways; either way, someone would die. Tearing her gaze away, Rogue kept her head tilted downward, not daring to see Kurt's expression upon learning the truth about her. She wouldn't be able to handle his rejection.

Ignoring the smallest tensing of her fingers, Kurt gently gripped her hand in his own and squeezed affectionately. "I understand. I used to be afraid of myself." He glanced down and smoothed down some wayward fur that was sticking straight up.

"Yeah," Rogue lifted her head and watched him hungrily. She licked her dry, chapped lips, "Ah've been meanin' tah ask yah about that. How'd yah get the courage tah go out in the daylight? Among people without worrying if they were gonna go afteh yah?"

He chuckled weakly, and Rogue could feel her heart go out to him at the strained, pinched look that entered his eyes. She could tell that it had not been a happy period for him. Almost had she stopped herself from asking the questions, but like the proverbial cat, curiosity just got the better of her. Rogue just hoped that unlike that same cat, she could land on her own two feet.

His laser like eyes zeroed in on hers and refused to let go, "I just realized that humans are inherently afraid of anything zey do not understand. Zey just need to be taught, ja? Besides, Amanda joined ze circus and she loved ze fact zat I vas so fuzzy." He winked at her as Rogue chuckled and smiled back at him, thankful that he already trusted her enough with the truth. "Und here, ze audience believes zat I am ze Incredible Nightcrawler; nothing more zan an acrobat in makeup."

Smirking at him, Rogue knocked her elbow against his side, "Well ah think that yah need some new makeup sugah, blue is so not yah color. Yah're more of a summer than a winter."

"Vhatever, you're just jealous 'cause I can pull off ze tail, ja?"

Rogue shoved him lightly, making him off balance; he hit the floor with a gentle _thud_. "Watch it Fuzzy, yah can keep the darn tail. Besides, ah already have a marker." Eyeing her bangs, she blew lustily upwards to illustrate.

"Zat isn't dye?"

She snorted, "Aw hell no! Lahke ah'd take that much peroxide tah mah hair? Naw, ah was born with it."

The wagon's door sprung open, startling them both. Kurt instinctively 'ported, leaving behind the telltale smell of sulphur and brimstone, but a second later he was back in the exact same spot. Rogue just blinked into the sunlight. "Whoa! I haven't done zat in a long time!" Kurt exclaimed once he was sitting back on the wagon floor, then turning like Rogue to the door, his eyes lit up at who had interrupted their talk, "Liebsten!"

Amanda ducked her head and stepped into the now crowded caravan and smiled warmly at her boyfriend, "Sorry to startle you honey, but Wanda needs your help, the tigers are acting up again and you know they like you best of all." She ignored Rogue, as if she was not in the space at all.

Kurt bounded up and kissing Amanda on the cheek left the wagon and the two women together. Shifting uneasily on the blankets and pillows, Rogue looked at Amanda and almost flinched at the hardened look that was thrown her way. But before Rogue could say anything, the other woman was outside, slamming the door shut behind her. It stung that Amanda so obviously hated her for some strange, unknown reason. In Bayville, she and Amanda got along fine…but here there was something working against her favor, but she had no idea what it was.

With a snarky grumble, Rogue followed behind and left the dark confines of the comfortable wagon. Closing the door securely behind her, Rogue carefully made her way down the steps and came face to face with a wary looking Cajun with a steaming cup of something in his hands.

"Now chère, what'cha do ta make bleu's fille look so pissed huh?" asked Remy as he held out the cup out to her as a peace offering.

Rogue smiled widely at the sight of the coffee and instantly forgave Remy for causing her early morning heart attack…at least mostly. Grasping it in her gloved hands, she blew gently and hesitantly took a sip. A sigh of satisfaction passed her lips and she threw Remy a grateful look, "Thanks foh the coffee sugah, ah've already had quite the mornin' and needed a pick meh up. As foh the bug that crawled up Amanda's bum and died, ah don't have the foggiest idea. She just keeps lookin' at meh lahke ah ran over her puppy or somethin'."

Both looked over at the cooking pot where Wanda, Kurt and Amanda were chatting. "Don't worry none petite, it'll blow over once she figures dat ya love de big bleu fuzzball." Remy murmured for Rogue's ears only as they walked together to the far end of the camp, where they wouldn't be over heard. They walked until they reached the farthest end of the circus and hidden by the shade of the Black Forest.

Once they were out of the sight of the circus folk, Rogue slapped Remy sharply against his bicep with her empty hand, taking care not to spill a single drop of her precious caffiene, "Ah wake up and yah're not there? Remy LeBeau! Give meh one good reason why ah shouldn't make sure that the next generation of LeBeau's will be deformed."

He looked sheepish, his red and onyx eyes twinkling in the early morning light, "Remy brought ya coffee?"

Rogue blinked, "Well, fahne. Ah guess that'll work foh now."

The chilled wind bit at her body now that Rogue was out of the covered wagon and though she was covered from head to toe it wasn't in clothing designed for a late German fall. A shiver raced through her body and she couldn't fight the shake that tore at her body.

Seeing her quiver in the stiff breeze, Remy shook off his trench coat and swung it about her shoulders, smoothing the sleeves down her arms. Stunned, Rogue stared up at Remy in astonishment at the gesture. She knew that he cared for her on some level, she wasn't entirely ready to analyze it too closely, but the lack of concern for her personal space was still something entirely new to Rogue.

"So uh…" She stammered, and swallowed in a desperate effort to clear her throat in order to hide the effect his generosity had on her, "why'd yah drag me over here?"

"Jus' wanted ta know what ya and de bleu boy talked about fo' so long."

"How long were we in there foh?"

Remy tilted his head slightly in thought, his ruddy colored hair falling all over the place at the movement, "Dunno, mais it was fo' at least a few hours. He went in dere ta wake make sure dat ya were still alive." Remy grinned at her boyishly, "Remy told him dat ya were too ornery ta run away or ta die in ya sleep, mais Bleu always was un peu protective towards ya, non? Coupla hours later, son fille goes stomping in dere like she's got Wolvie on her ass."

Rogue nodded abstractedly, "Yeah, that sounds 'bout right." The wind picked up slightly and Rogue gathered the jacket closer to her slight body to hide the shivers.

Remy looked at her expectantly, his vibrant red and pitch black eyes boring into hers without mercy. Rogue unconsciously shifted back a pace at the intensity of his gaze, the man could melt glass with a stare like that! "What." She demanded irritably.

"What." He mocked her, "Remy jus' wanna knows why all the fuss and bother! Didja ya talk about…?"

She nodded and the hard look that always invaded her face softened slightly as she recalled the conversation with her brother, "We talked." A broad grin almost split her face in two, "Remy, he actually recognized meh! Ah mean, not that ah'm his sisteh or anythang, but he said it was lahke we had a connection."

Remy's eyebrows skyrocketed into his hairline, "Quoi? No shit. What, dat has ta be the first time, non?"

She nodded vigorously in agreement, "Yeah! It was so weird, but oddly everythang felt so…right. Ah don't know how tah explain it."

Remy squeezed her arm gently, "No need ta belle, Remy understands. He and Sinister had a moment comme dat back in Vegas."

A harsh grimace flared on Rogues face and she stared up at Remy in sympathy but he waved it off, "Not a problème. Jus' a shock, non?"

"Yeah, 's weird yah know? Ah've been to so many different places; Ah've seen Kitty, Pietro, Scott, Jean and Bobby…none of them even knew meh, yet Kurt does."

Remy shook his head and leaned gently against the aged bark of one of the surrounding trees, letting out a gusty sigh he said, "Not too sure 'bout dat. Seems more den a lil odd, oui? Mais, haven't ya noticed somethin' Roguey?"

"What Swamp Breath."

Still against the tree, Remy raised his hands as if in warning, "Now, Remy don' know much and he's only been doing dis wit ya fo' a short time, mais seems ta Remy dat every time we go someplace there's somethin' we need ta do before we can leave."

Rogue was quiet for a minute, her brain suddenly pushed into overdrive. Was that true? Silently she reviewed everything that had happened to her since her…accident. Her head tilted towards the ground, Rogue silently ticked everything off on her fingers; Chicago, the mountain convent, California…was Remy actually right? Then there was Vegas. A quick fearful shiver coursed through her body; she could honestly say that they had done some good there. Was this all because they were X-men?

Lifting her head slightly she stared at him, "So what do we do?" she asked simply, draining the last drop from her coffee cup.

"We figure out what we gotta do and den finish dis thing. It can't be too healthy fo' ya ta be stuck in dat coma chère."

At the mention of her current state of health Rogue's eyes narrowed sharply, "Speakin' of which sugah, yah never did tell meh how the hell yah got in here with meh." She placed the tin cup on the ground and stared at him, her eyes demanding answers.

Remy rubbed his face tiredly. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now. "Not now petite, Remy's more int'rested in ya conversation wit Bleu."

A brilliant red film began to cloud over her sight and Rogue growled. Standing up quickly, she rushed forward and gripping Remy's upper arms, shoved him firmly against the tree trunk. "No," she ground out between gritted teeth, "Ah don't think so Remy. Ah've been patient, but yah owe me the truth. Yah promised meh in Vegas, and damnit, Ah am gonna hold yah tah it raght this minute." Releasing one of his arms, Rogue bit the finger of her right glove and slowly pulled it off with her teeth. Dropping it on the ground along with her empty cup, she raised her hand, hovering it over his cheek with an innocent menace that would mean nothing to a passerby.

"Spill LeBeau, or else ah'm going fishin'."

Fury equal to Rogue's entered Remy's face, sinking into every nook and cranny along the planes of his cheeks and forehead, his lips tightened until they were a pasty white shade. With a sharp shrug he dislodged her grip on his arms and shoved her back as forcefully as he could without hurting her. "Ya wouldn' dare belle, the idea of havin' dis one in ya head scares ya more den ya'd like ta admit."

Stung by the truth in his remark, Rogue stumbled back. Gathering her anger together like a Kevlar vest, Rogue snapped back, "Yeah? And whatcha hidin' there Remy? Why won't yah tell me how yah got here?"

The wind torn out of his sails, Remy hung his head, temporarily defeated; because she was right, he was scared to let her know how much it had ripped him apart when the accident happened. A low gasp drew Remy back to the present, and glancing up he was startled to see actual tears in the rough and tumble girl before him.

Shooting him a look of pain and terror, Rogue bent down, scooped up her glove and ran back towards the circus. Confused, Remy took off after her, his long legs easily catching up.

Grabbing her gloved hand, he twirled her around until she was again facing him. The sight of her tears coursing down her smooth, pale cheeks caused him more heartache than he knew what to do with, though he hadn't the faintest clue as to why she was even crying in the first place. Smoothly, he drew her to him; hugging tightly her resisting body to his own.

"What's wrong chère? What'd Remy do dis time?" he begged, curious and frightened at the same time. Rogue had never looked at him like that before and it rocked him to his core.

Pulling back slightly, Rogue began pounding him with her fists. Her blows hit everywhere; his chest, arms, torso, and a few even struck his face. But he just let her tire herself out between the tears and the beating. Carefully, so as to not cause her tears to start back up again, Remy ran his hand down her tangled mass of auburn and creamy white curls.

"Talk ta Remy. C'mon Rogue."

His murmuring seemed to do the trick and she stopped crying immediately. He gazed down at her warmly, the red in his eyes pulsing lightly with his heartbeat. But the ferocity in her eyes and the menacing curve of her lips checked Remy's heartfelt statement for a minute.

"What a fool ah am." She hissed, "Ya'll are just a mirage invented by mah sick, twisted mahnd!"

"Quoi?" he asked, startled at the accusation.

Rogue sneered at him, but it was akin to the sneer he was used to seeing on Wolverine. Hard, coarse and with almost no mercy. But it was the remnant of mercy that gave him hope that Rogue wasn't entirely angry with him. At least, not yet. "What de hell? A mirage?"

Wrenching her body away from the protective cocoon of his arms, Rogue glared forcefully at the tall man before her, "Yeah. Remy, why didn't ya tell meh that ya'll didn't come from the real world…_mah_ world? Ah would have understood if yah had come from someplace lahke this!"

Remy chuckled, and smiled at her gleefully, "Ya t'ought dat Remy was a dream?"

"More lahke a nightmare ah'd say." Rogue sniffed disdainfully, but she didn't run away.

The overjoyed expression was quickly wiped away and the Cajun shook his head woefully, "Je suis désolé Roguey, but Remy never lied ta ya. He remembers when ya got hurt and everything that happened after." He grasped her arm lightly, but with enough force to make her understand that he was not kidding around this time. They were going to hash things out until it was safe again to go back to Kurt, Wanda, Amanda and the rest of the circus people who had been kind enough to take them in.

Forced against a familiar tree trunk, Rogue eyed the overhanging evergreen needles balefully, ignoring the wary Cajun before her. "Fine," she said finally, "Yah were there. Ah can live with that." Her emerald eyes hit him like a bolt from above, "What ah can't understand is why, after all this tahme, yah can't tell meh what the hell brought yah here in the first place." a heartbroken expression entered her eyes and she twisted away until barely the side of her face was visible, "Ah get it now. Yah don't wanna tell meh. Ah promise, ah won't try and pry anymore; Ah just thought yah trusted meh more than that Remy LeBeau."

Remy opened his mouth, but before he was able to tell her the truth they were interrupted by something tall, beautiful and aggravating.

"Kurt just told me that you know my brother."

Blinking as if in a daze, Rogue came face to face with Wanda in surprise, "Ah'm sorry?"her brain was still trying to wrap itself around the non-answer she had received from the man before her.

For possibly the first time ever since Rogue had known Wanda, either the real one or the one in her head, the Scarlet Witch looked slightly nervous. Sensing the distraction he had so desperately needed, Remy turned tail and walked back towards camp. He needed time to think. Alone.

"Knew yah brother sugah," Rogue corrected absentmindedly as she stared at Remy's retreating figure, "And it seems lahke a lifetime ago tah be honest." Rogue forcefully tore her eyes away from the lanky figure of the Cajun to focus more on the disgruntled gypsy before her.

"Oh." Wanda bit her lush bottom lip, her bright sapphire blue eyes wide. Just watching her, Rogue got the impression that for however long they had been separated, such a distance was hard on the twins.

Carefully, Rogue reached out and placed her hand lightly on Wanda's bared shoulder, "He's doin' fahne out there Hun," she said softly, "And ah'm sure he's missin' yah just as much as yah're missin' him."

Wanda shrugged nonchalantly, but Rogue was not fooled. Though she and Kurt did not share the same blood, it was still sibling tie; Rogue understood the pain of being separated. "Why don't yah go out there and visit him some tahme?"

She shook her head and gestured to the tents that housed the nomadic gypsies as well as their ever faithful troupe of creatures, "And leave the circus?"

Rogue laughed, "Sugah, ah hate tah be the one tah tell yah this, but ah think the circus can last without yah for a couple of days."

A noxious cloud of smoke appeared randomly beside Rogue and Wanda, "God Kurt!" Rogue cried, waving her hand in front of her face to ward off the plume of smoke that cascaded towards her. Wanda choked and wiped her eyes as tears leaked unwanted from the corners.

Kurt smiled sheepishly, "Sorry ladies."

Breathing deeply, Wanda filled her lungs with semi fresh air before speaking again, "So fuzz man, why're you over here?"

"Amanda needs you Wanda."

"So why couldn't she just come get me herself?"

Rogue watched Kurt carefully after the question had been asked and she wasn't surprised to find that he was studiously avoiding even glancing in her general direction. "It's cause of meh, right Kurt?" she asked softly.

He sighed heavily and bowed his head before glancing up at her, his heart plain in his eyes, "Ja und I have no idea vhy."

Rogue's heart went out to him; it had to be hard to have your girlfriend so at odds with someone you felt a connection to. He looked almost deflated, as if the realization that Amanda hated Rogue was enough to take the fuzz out of his fur. Even his tail didn't have its usual bounce.

Leaning over, Rogue uncharacteristically gave Kurt a tight hug and then quickly released him before he had a chance to hug her back, "It'll be alrahgt Kurt, ya'll see."

"Kurt!"

The trio turned towards the camp to see who had called to them. The sun was just overhead so the figure of Kurt's girlfriend was unfettered by shadows, the expression of badly hidden dislike was plain on her pretty face. Flipping back her long brown hair, Amanda nodded at Kurt and wiggled several fingers at him to hurry up. Then turning back around, she stalked off into the myriad of chaos that was the circus in the middle of the day.

"Did she even say why she wanted me?" Wanda asked as she continued to stare off into the crowds though Amanda's svelte figure had long since vanished.

"Nein."

"Then she doesn't really need me, does she? Kurt, just go back and tell miss high and mighty to get off her high horse before I do something. I don't know what just yet," raising a hand, Wanda allowed a glint of blue energy to crawl along her fingers," but I'm pretty damn sure it would be interesting. Wouldn't you think?" Just looking at Wanda, Rogue could tell that here, just like in Bayville, that was not an idle threat. Glimmering sparks of something that matched the flames flowing up and down the lines on her hands danced along the tips of Wanda's multi-toned hair and her bright blue eyes held what might have just been the beginnings of a plot in them. Not bothering to even ask, Kurt quickly disappeared in his customary puff of billowing smoke that left the surroundings smelling like a combination of charbroiled turkey and rotten eggs.

"Don't worry," Wanda told Rogue cheerfully, "Amanda doesn't do bitch very well. That's my department."

"Somehow that really doesn't surprise meh too much hun." Rogue replied dryly as she fanned away the offending smoke. As they walked back to the circus together Rogue couldn't help but feel a well placed twinge of guilt; not only did she have Amanda Sefton's wrath to deal with, but Remy was pissed at her as well, and she knew that was all her fault.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As the slightly destructive mutant children stayed upstairs, or in the case of Roberto, hid far and away from the sight of the beautiful, blonde telepath, the mansion's authority figures were downstairs in the infirmary.

After a couple of hours of sleep, Emma had finally come back downstairs to be greeted by the adults and quickly escorted down into the subbasement.

Ignoring the varied looks sent her way, Emma Frost moved gracefully around the reclining figures of Rogue and Remy. "Hmm," she murmured, leaning closely to Rogue's face, ignoring the swath of bandages wrapped securely around her head. An internal smirk danced through her head as she heard Hank and the Professor restrain Wolverine from stopping her, "well, she's definitely out of it, isn't she?" She turned around and crossed her arms, the once purely internal smirk now full blown on her face.

With a wary glance at Logan, Beast answered her, "Yes, yes. That is why I believe we have asked you here Ms. Frost, can you sense either of them?"

She speared him with a chilling look, "Really Mr. McCoy, Professor Xavier here hasn't been able to find them…what in the world makes you believe that I could after five minutes?"

" 'Cause Chuck said yeh're supposed ta be good at this mind meddlin'."

"Logan, I said she was talented. Not a prodigy."

Ororo took over the conversation before too much male testosterone invaded the infirmary, "Ms. Frost, may I call you Emma?"

Emma tilted her head in agreement, "Well then," Storm continued calmly, "You've seen Rogue, what about Remy?"

Turning away from Rogue's body, Emma focused on Gambit instead. Here she almost felt…_something_. It was a faint tingling sensation low along the base of her brain. "How long has he been comatose?" she asked almost distractedly as she ran her pale fingers along his face.

"Remy has been as such for the better part of a week, and Rogue has been in her coma for almost two." answered the professor quickly.

"Mmm…he's a cutie, that's for sure."

Storm's voice took on a chilly quality, "Yes, he is handsome. But I don't believe that is what we were looking for Emma."

Emma sighed and reluctantly pulled her hand back from their path tracing Remy's features. It was almost too bad that she was only there to pull them out of their well hidden mindscapes, just being in the same room with this Gambit left her with a desire to get to know him better. Glancing at Xavier, Emma walked to the head of the bed and placed her hands on either side of Remy's head, "Charles. Did you happen to feel anything from Gambit?"

Xavier rolled his chair over beside Emma and closed his eyes. A few minutes later they popped back open and the x-men could see that whatever he had sensed startled him. "Not like this. But I believe I have a theory. Hank, come with me. Ororo and Logan, stay here with Ms. Frost for a few minutes. We shan't be long."

Beast and the professor left the room quickly, turning left. They could be heard chatting softly before the down shut behind them with a soft hissing sound. "What's this about blondie?" Logan asked gruffly.

Ruffling Remy's hair and softly moving it away from his forehead, "Gambit here has an interesting block on his mind. It's not nearly as strong as Rogue's, nor does it have the natural complexity that comes from having powers such as hers. And yet, it's as strong as any telepath developed bit of work that I've seen in a long while."

"So what does this mean?" Storm asked quietly, her bright blue eyes clouded in worry. She was just happy that none of the children were currently down here; considering what they were trying to achieve and how it was going at the moment, Rogue and Remy might have already been sentenced to having their plugs pulled. She just hoped fervently that what the professor and Beast found was better than they thought.

Emma shrugged, "No idea. He's not a telepath, but as his secondary power is empathy that might have something to do with it. Or else Mr. LeBeau might have something up his sleeves and hasn't decided it was the right time to show his hand yet."

"Remy has always been rather secretive." Storm murmured in concern.

"Has he shown a preference for anyone in the mansion? Friendly or romantic?" Emma asked nonchalantly as she continued to scan Remy for something to work with. Wolverine looked at her suspiciously.

"Why would ya wanna know."

She sniffed and look over at him, "For the sole purpose of saving his ass. And hers, of course. It could be important to know in the future."

Still unsure as to her motives, Logan nodded his head at Rogue, "The only one he ever really bothered with is next ta him."

Storm nodded, "Yes, Remy would only talk to two people. Myself and Rogue. The others in the mansion he seems to merely…tolerate, if you will."

"Really. That's…fascinating." The blonde murmured softly. As Logan and Storm chatted in the background, she tuned them out and focused on the man before her. Closing her eyes, Emma threw herself into Remy's consciousness. And found herself sitting in the equivalent of his brain's waiting room.

Sitting in an orange plastic chair that was not made for comfort, Emma stared around her in confusion. She had never seen a person's brain in such an order before. Usually the surroundings were ethereal, filled with wisps of smoke, soft voices and something personal to show that it was their mind. For Emma, everything was a diamond. For Jean, there were pictures of Scott and the X-men. Here there was nothing.

It wasn't that Gambit's mind was an empty landscape with just a chair. It was empty in that there was nothing recognizable for Emma; most human's minds were fairly similar, rather hum drum and dull. But right now, for Emma, she could have been in any doctors office in the world at the moment; it was that bland.

Generic elevator music was playing faintly overhead, though Emma could see no speakers in any corner of the room. In fact, she could almost see no corners of the room as either wall continued on forever as far as her mind's eye could see. The walls were a depressing shade of pale green and the same three pictures of a mountain range, a city skyline and a swamp were spaced almost equally apart around the room, extending farther to the left and right than she could see without squinting. Surrounding her were hundreds and hundreds of equally uncomfortable orange plastic chairs. In a nutshell, she was in the place where the imagination went to commit suicide.

"Who'dya thought that the spicy Cajun would have such a tasteless mindscape?" she muttered, getting up from the hard seats and rubbing her butt with a wince.

Not wanting to waste any time, she walked up to the window and rapped sharply on the thin plastic glass. It slid back and Emma was greeted by…Emma. She blinked to realize that the person who was currently smiling brightly in her direction was indeed herself. The same shining blonde hair in a perfect 'do, the same piercing blue eyes that were unusually bright and the same set of full lips that normally would be quirked in a sardonic grin but were split widely in a smile that Emma knew had never entered into her normal facial patterns. And she was dressed in a stereotypical, slutty nurse's outfit that just screamed "examine me doctor! I've been feeling a lil naughty lately."

"Hi!" the other Emma burbled brightly, "I'm you and welcome to Remy's mind. How may I help you?"

The real Ms. Frost stared at her double in disbelief. She had never met the Acadian and yet here she was in his mind. "This is Remy's mind? This is something I would more expect from my past couple of ex-boyfriends…"

Nurse Emma giggled, "Because this isn't technically Remy's mind."

"But you just said it was."

"I know," bending her nurse clad body forward just beyond the window frame, Emma crooked her index finger at the real Emma, "but between you and me, that's because most people just assume that's where they are."

A small groan escaped Emma in frustration, "Fine!" she exclaimed loudly, only to be shushed for her troubles, "Why? There isn't any one even in here!"

In answer the Emma figure merely pointed at a list beside the window that had been previously missed. With a raised eyebrow, Emma read the list quickly only to see that along with singing aloud, eating food, discussing movies, books, television shows, speaking loudly, more commonly known as shouting, was not allowed.

"Fine!" said Emma again, only much quieter, "If I'm not 'technically' in Remy's mind, then tell me. Where am I?"

"What are you looking for?"

Confused, Emma's forehead wrinkled slightly, "What the hell are you talking about? Where's Gambit? Why can't I find _him_ here? It is his mindscape after all."

The puppet Emma only tilted her head to side and repeated, "What are you looking for?"

Ignoring the question Emma stared at herself, "Tell me darling. Why is it that I'm the receptionist?"

"Someone has to be here to greet the visitors."

"But I've never met the idiot before. How the hell can I be a fixture here?"

With growing unease, Emma saw the pale blue eyes of her double go flat and unreadable, "What makes you think you are?" without another word, Emma was mildly astonished to see herself waver and morph slowly into the figure of Jean Grey, or at least she assumed it was Jean Grey, she had only ever seen photographs of the teenager, "This is the mind Ms. Frost. Point of fact, it's Remy's mind; so it's a little stricter in some places, and more loose in others."

"Now I'll ask you again," the beautiful redheaded teen said tetchily as she adjusted her nurses outfit with a violent wrench, "What are you looking for."

Slightly comforted that she was no longer looking and speaking to herself, Emma shared a frosty smile with the teen mutant, "Gambit."

Jean made a show of flipping through the files for a second then looked up and shrugged, "Not here. But if you see him, let him know that the emotes are getting a bit restless in the back ok?"

Never before had Emma been so confused as she traversed the pathways of the mind, but Remy's brain seemed to like making things inordinately difficult. Even if she wasn't technically in his mind. Yet. "Can't I just go into the 'back' and see for myself that he's not here?"

Jean shook her head firmly, "No. No one goes back there besides Remy or an emote."

"Emote…?"

"Emotions of course. What, you a telepath and you didn't know that Mr. LeBeau was a secondary empath?"

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Emma forced herself to act calm and not rip out great handfuls of the long, luxurious red hair before. "Yes, of course I knew that. Don't be silly." She opened her mouth again, ready to make the Jean before her fully understand Emma's personal take on 'obstruction of justice,' but an annoying familiar voice interrupted before she had a chance.

_Emma would you please stop for the moment and come back? We need to discuss something important._

Rolling her eyes heavenward, Emma sneered at the woman behind the window, "I'll be back." With closing her eyes and concentrating, she reopened them to find herself back in the infirmary, her hands still curved loosely around Remy's head. Logan and Storm were eyeing her oddly just when Xavier and Hank walked back in. "What." She snapped at the two staring at her.

"Welcome back Emma dear, how was your journey into our Gambit's mental workings? I must say I am impressed, even I-"

"Save it Charles," Emma interrupted quickly, "it's not as simple as I made it look."

The professor stopped just inside the doorway, barely leaving enough room for Hank to squeeze by. His forehead wrinkled at her words, "What do you mean? I know you went there, it's how Hank and I found you via Cerebro. I was simply going to congratulate you on entering his mindscape; Mr. LeBeau here," he gestured at Remy's body on the infirmary bed, "has one of the tougher natural barriers that I've ever come across."

For a moment Wolverine grinned down at the younger man, "Gambit likes his privacy." It impressed Wolverine that such a young, arrogant piece of work had been able to stump the spooks. Almost made him feel slightly guilty for all the tortuous Danger Room sessions he had forced the boy into. Almost.

"Yes Logan, or else there are things in his personal nature of past that he doesn't care to share with just anybody."

"Can't blame the boy Chuck. Not everyone's past is lily white." Logan shrugged then fell silent as both telepaths stared at him long and hard.

Emma sneered at the shorter man, "Yes well, since I'm sure your brain wouldn't be nearly as hard to _pick apart_ I suggest you don't tempt me. Regardless, with Remy here my first step was not into his mind."

"Then where in the name of Goddess did you go?" Storm asked in worry.

"I suppose you could call it the waiting room to Remy's brain."

The professor rolled closer, his curiosity piqued, "Waiting room? Not possible, the mind is complex, but it isn't nearly to that degree just yet." A thoughtful, questioning look came across his face, "How did you get into his thoughts at all Emma? I've been attempting to do so to the point of doubling and tripling my efforts all week."

The question caught her off guard, hadn't the same thing been bothering her as well? How could she, a telepath, entered into someone's mind if the strongest hadn't even been able to do it. Quickly, she replayed the entire episode over and over again in her head looking for something to stand out. "I think," she said softly after a few minutes, interrupting the quiet discussions that had been carried on around her, "that it was because I wasn't looking for Remy."

"If I may ask then, who were you looking for Ms. Frost?" asked Beast seriously. While the others had been talking quietly amongst themselves, Hank had taken the moment to check up on his only patients; adjusting the machines and checking for anything new between the two of them.

Charles was astonished by her announcement, "Not looking for Remy." He glanced at Storm in wonderment, "Maybe that is what I have been doing wrong for so long!"

Emma shook her head, "I wasn't looking for anyone necessarily Mr. McCoy, what I was looking for was brain activity."

Beast gestured at the various machines beeping around the room, "I'm sorry, but I believe that we'd already established that their brains were in fact working."

"Not like this," she smiled at him, "sure your machines check to make sure that the brain functions. But on its basest level. Charles can tell you the different levels, I don't care to waste my time in such a manner at this point. Nevertheless, it appears that I wasn't looking for Remy's particular signature, just a signature in general."

"Did you find it? Find him?" Emma glanced at Storm and was amused to find the other woman's blue eyes wide in alarm and her two upper teeth biting worriedly at her bottom lip.

"No." Emma shook her head but chuckled, "but that speaks volumes as it is."

Wolverine growled at her, "Get to the point Barbie."

Emma caught Xavier's eye and stared at him meaningfully as she replied, "If I'm Barbie, what does that make you? A Pound Puppy? Anyways Mr. Logan, the point I've been making this entire time is that Remy isn't in there." she pointed at the comatose body, then she smiled sweetly at the professor, "Charles? Didn't you say you had something important to discuss?"

Charles ignored her question for a more important one, "Where is he then."

Emma shrugged, "Don't really know, but if I had to hazard a guess, my money would be that he's with her." She pointed at Rogue.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"He's not with meh!" Rogue cried in frustration and annoyance, "Ah mean, sure…he's _with_ meh, but not _with _ meh _with_ meh." She exclaimed, trying to stress her meaning. By now it had been a few weeks since she and Remy had appeared into the lives of the circus folk and they had quickly been swept into the hustle and bustle that came with such a lifestyle.

Wanda eyed her with something akin to amusement in her eyes, "Sure. And that's why you two haven't been out of each other's sight since you came here?"

This wasn't the first time such a conversation had occurred, but every time it was getting harder and harder to impress on Wanda that nothing was going on between her and Gambit. As it was it was bad enough that he still really wasn't talking to her after their last little blowout. He'd be polite if they met, but he no longer stayed in the same wagon with her. In fact, she had no idea where he was sleeping.

They had been walking to the equipment wagon and Rogue stalked ahead slightly, "Foh the last damn tahme Wanda! Remy and ah aren't tahgether!"she growled over her shoulder as she wrenched open the delicate wooden door and crawled inside.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I asked him to come with me into the village?"

Rogue went still. Wanda liked Remy? In the short amount of time that they had been with the circus, Rogue had quickly learned that the village was the place to go for an impromptu date, or just to get a decent beer.

"Don't ya'll have a boyfriend?" she asked carefully as she slowly handed back piles of rope, bungee cords and paint.

Wanda waved a dismissive hand as she lowered piece after piece of equipment down to the ground, "John's off visiting family somewhere in the backwoods of Oz for a couple of months. He'd understand. Just like I'd understand if he told me that he'd had an affair with a kangaroo and named the love child Rufus." Rogue stared at her blankly, "Don't ask, please."

"Fahne, but Remy?" Rogue asked skeptically, "Ah mean, he's not really yah type sugah." But something dark inside Rogue blossomed as the idea of Remy and Wanda having a tryst took full shape in her mind's eye. She grimaced as her imagination took a decidedly sick turn, and quickly twisted her head so Wanda couldn't see her expression.

"What do you mean? I've seen Remy around…as far as I can tell, any woman's his type."

Her shoulders stiffening, Rogue bit her tongue to stop the retort from fighting its way out. The comment stung deeply. There was too much truth in what Wanda said for Rogue to completely shrug it off. Tossing back a knotted length of repair rope, Rogue closed her eyes and mentally reviewed every private moment she'd had with Remy recently. As the images played before her eyes, tears gently leaked from the corners. She had tried so hard to keep her heart safe, but even the untouchable had been willing prey for the king of hearts it seemed like. "Maybe yah're rahgt afterall Wanda," Rogue finally replied, her voice low, "Why don't yah ask him out?" Her face turned away from her friend, Rogue surreptitiously wiped her telltale tears before they could make tracks down her face.

Rogue finally turned her head around so she could face Wanda and she nearly choked to see the expression on her friends' face. It was one of pity and understanding, "If that's what you want Rogue." Wanda said softly. Then she smiled, grabbed half the equipment and walked back towards the big top to drop the stuff off.

"What ah want." Rogue murmured to herself as she clambered out of the brightly painted wagon, "huh, raght. Sure." Moving slowly, she walked back into the chaos ignoring the general noise excitement as she tried to process the idea of Wanda and Remy.

Rogue kept her head down and worked steadily all afternoon. Ever since one of the acrobats had seen her do her morning exercises, she had joined in with their daily training. Not only was it a great way to stay in shape outside of the Danger Room, and c'mon, who knew when she'd actually make it back if she was honest with herself, but it also got her to interact with the rest of the circus. Already Rogue had made friends with one of the monkey's that Wanda was in charge of, his name was Markl, as well as any number of the acrobats that Kurt ran around with.

Standing inside the enormous big top, Rogue calmly breathed in the musty wood chip smell and smiled at no one in particular. Though it was the middle of the day, she was alone and that was the way she preferred things, especially when she had so much on her mind. Bending towards the ground and touching her toes, Rogue closed her eyes contentedly as her back stretched out and popped. She then bent to the left and right, twisting her back and stretching her legs until she felt fully limber.

Glancing upward, Rogue eyed the tightrope that stretched from one end to the other. They hadn't let her on that just yet, though she had proved time and again that her balance was better than most. A quick and furtive glance all around the tent caused Rogue's adrenaline to spike; she was alone.

Smoothly she dashed over to the rope ladder and began climbing up. At the top, Rogue stood on the platform and leaned carefully over to see all the way down. Though the net was plain to see, the sight of the ground sent a small shiver up her back. A flashback to the swan dive she and Remy had taken in Vegas shuttered through her mind like an old black and white film. Mentally she shook herself, heights really gave her no problem; it was the idea of freefalling from a multi-story building with no safety before that really got her worried. With slight trepidation, Rogue put one foot on the line and then the other.

With a smile, she gently coasted out along the firm wire, one step at a time, but with more confidence than before. To Rogue it was almost similar to all the balance beam exercises Mystique used to drill her in as a child, it was like Gymnastics class all over again.

With barely a thought she bent backwards, wrapped her hand around the wire and then flipped her body back over creating a smooth back flip. "Tada." She murmured softly, the soft breeze floating above the stadium seating mimicking the way she figured applause might sound.

In quick succession she flip forwards and backwards, bending low against the wire, pressing her body into it almost as a lover would. It was almost too easy, as long as you ignored the fact that the tricks were occurring about fifty feet above the ground, and a good twenty above the safety net. Throwing her body into another lightning fast set of back flips, Rogue traveled from one platform to another. Panting lightly she posed for a minute, her arms pulled up and back over her head as if she were ready to perform a swan dive and then bowed low to the ground.

The loud crashing sound of clapping startled her.

"Bravo belle, Remy gotta admit, dat was some show."

Squinting down to the ground, Rogue was stunned to see Gambit leaning against one of the many popcorn machines that would be later up and running, serving piping hot and slightly stale popcorn to children and adults alike. Flinging her body into the air, Rogue could feel her heart seize up as she dropped towards the earth momentarily before the net caught her. Bouncing up and down, she somehow managed to get herself over to the edge where she leaned over and stared at the intruder, "Gambit," she groused, her elbows cutting deeply into the thick, roughly woven rope, "What the hell are yah doin' in here boy?"

"What, no bonjour fo' po' ol' Remy?" he mocked her lightly, the lenses of his sunglasses a dull matte in the darkened tent.

Rogue stayed silent and stared at him. He didn't look nervous, but after living with him for a few months and being one of the only people he could stand, Rogue had learned a lot about Remy. Such as how when he gets antsy he plays with a card. Like he was now. She smirked to see the ace of spades flicker through his fingers at rapid speed. It was nice to know that she wasn't the only one affected by their mutual silence. "What can ah do foh yah Cajun?" she drawled lazily as she slid out of the net and onto the ground.

"Kurt was gettin' worried. Apparently ya were supposed ta help him wit' somet'ing?" he shrugged, then nodded at the wire high above their heads, "Where'd ya learn ta do dat?"

"Gymnastics. Mystique made meh go foh years." Rogue eyed him, hating his sunglasses more than she ever had at that moment. She hated not being able to know where he was looking, it made her feel vulnerable. "Yah should see meh on the uneven bars." When they had first joined the circus Rogue had tried to reason with Remy; with Kurt running around like a giant, fuzzy Smurf no one was going to mind his eyes. But the man was a stubborn as the day was long and in the end he'd won.

He smirked at her over the tops of his lenses, "Keep ya ta dat, den."

The silence filled the tent around them, only highlighting the awkward stubbornness of the Southerners. Rogue cleared her throat, "So uh, Kurt wanted meh?"

Remy nodded, and her frustration mounted as the realization that he could be looking anywhere hit her again, "What foh?"

"De bleu boy didn' say."

Finally it got to be too much for Rogue. Her anger, hurt and frustration bubbled up the top and she exploded, "Is that all yah have tah say? And why the hell do yah have yah're glasses on Remy? Does it make yah feel better around meh now, to hide yah're eyes?" The raspy tones of anger charged through her every syllable as she continued to rant and rave for the new few minutes. Her voice hoarse and her anger almost out of steam, Rogue finally gave up, "Yah know what, whateveh. Just…go out with Wanda already." She threw her hands up in the air and marched towards the staff entrance, hoping to hide for the next few hours.

She wasn't so lucky. A firm grip wrapped itself around her upper arm and Rogue found her eyes closing contentedly of their own account. It had been weeks since he had voluntarily touched her; Rogue had never realized how much she took Remy's lack of fear for granted until he began to avoid her. She felt the fierce tug at her arm and allowed herself to be wheeled around.

The first thing she noticed was that he had finally taken the damned sunglasses off. The second thing she noticed, and not without a grimace, is that his gaze was fixed firmly on her. And he was not happy. "What de hell was dat shit about Rogue? First time we talking in weeks and ya attack moi? Dat just ain't right p'tite." He sighed and rumpled his long cinnamon colored hair, his ruby and onyx eyes pleading with her, "Remy don' understand Roguey, one minute we be fine chattin' the next…what de hell happened?" It was as if his every thought over the past few weeks had finally found an outlet.

Rogue lowered her lashes, "Wish ah knew what tah tell yah Remy."It was on the tip of her tongue and yet it still hurt and galled her that he refused to explain why he had come to her, to have him explain that he wasn't a fantasy in this world of half awake dreams and ill begotten desires.

"Ya could tell dis one de truth, oui?" He pleaded, and it nearly broke Rogue's resolve. She had never heard him beg and plead like this before.

Pulling herself from his grasp, Rogue clasped her arms around her and stepped backwards quickly, "Kurt needs meh. Ah'll…ah'll see yah later Remy." She answered softly before turning around and running out of the main tent. Leaving Remy standing in the center of the ring looking at her wake in astonishment.

For hours afterwards, Rogue hid in the forest, just beyond where most people would be able to see her. As she sat in the shade, Rogue had fought for tears to appear, anything to ease the tightness in her chest. But for hours she was tear free, finally she gave up when her eyes began to hurt from being forcefully squinted for so long.

Eventually it was late enough that Rogue knew she had to leave the safety of the forest and rejoin the circus for fear that they might send out a search party. She walked slowly, trying to stretch the time out before she had to join the group around the nightly cooking fire. Just beyond the shadows cast by the dancing flames, Rogue stood off to the side and watched the joking, laughing mass of people as they congregated for their nightly meal.

Her arms crossed, Rogue watched for fifteen minutes before she was joined by Kurt. He had spotted her in the shadows by the glow of her pure white bangs and had walked over, choosing the slowest path so as to not draw attention to a person who obviously didn't want it. "Ah hear yah wanted tah see meh Kurt?" she asked, not bothering to look at him as he stood beside her.

He nodded, "Ja, but earlier. Ve vere much vorried about you Rogue."

"Yeah, so worried ya'll sent Remy tah look foh meh." She snorted in righteous anger.

Kurt looked surprised, stopped in mid-motion, "Vhat? Fraulein, ve never told Remy anything. None of us saw him today at all." He shrugged, and nodded towards the bonfire, "Vell, until this evening." His forehead furrowed in confusion, Kurt caught sight of Rogue's face and worriedly asked her if she was alright.

He had good reason to ask. Any color that Rogue had once had disappeared the instant he informed her that no one had sent Remy hunting after her. Which meant he had come after her by his own choice. And she had shoved him away. Suddenly the tears that she had fought for all afternoon were more than willing to spill down her pale cheeks, hot and wet they weren't enough to distract Rogue from the pain that wrenched her entire body at the knowledge of what she had done yet again. Sabotaged herself.

Numbly she allowed herself to be pulled along behind Kurt as he jabbered on about how she needed to eat some food. Pushed down onto a warm log fairly close to the fire, Rogue was stunned to find a steaming bowl of stew forced into her stiff hands. The earthy aroma of peas, carrots, meat and potatoes finally caught her attention and Rogue reluctantly picked up her spoon and began to eat.

As she ate, her eyes refused to stay focused on her food and so chose to wander around the nightly entertainments and drama. She ignored the teenage giggles and gasps from the older children of the gypsy folk, such simply reminded her of the mansion and right now that was a reminder she could live without. She bypassed Kurt and Amanda; their joy and mutual happiness would have been enough to turn her off if it hadn't been for the added factor that her brother's girlfriend hated her for no apparent reason. Her sights settled temporarily on the impromptu ragtag band of musicians trying to carve out a beat in the cool night air; unwillingly, the toes on her right foot began to tap gently against the ground until she realized what was going on and ended such an unnecessary movement with a scowl.

Her gaze went around and around the fire site, always skipping over two very distinct spots. Finally she had nowhere else to look; sadly when her green eyes finally glanced in Remy's direction they widened and she nearly choked on a hunk of potato. Wanda was sitting next to him, her face buried into his hair and she seemed to be laughing lightly at something the somewhat triumphant looking Cajun had said.

With a muffled clatter, Rogue dropped her still half full bowl and barreled away from the festivities. As she walked, her pace began to pick up and soon her feet were flying against the ground. Before she knew how far she had run, Rogue found herself in the area sectioned off for the animals and their cages.

Slowly she wound her way through the labyrinth of metal bars and sleepy animal growls and snores. Stopping over at the monkey cage she was dismayed to see Markl sleeping, his small head tucked beneath the arm of a family member. Over at the elephant pen, even Rosie was fast asleep.

Rogue felt herself sliding farther and farther down. She hit the ground and was resting against the cool alien feel of the cage bars. Pulling her knees up, Rogue tucked her head between her legs and took long, deep breaths to calm herself. This was what she got for telling her friends to go for it, to go ahead and date. What did she expect?

The crickets chirped loudly all around her, their noise nearly drowning out the memories that flowed through her mind. Then one by one they fell silent until eventually Rogue was alone with her thoughts. Or so she thought.

"Roguey?"

Barely lifting her head up, Rogue spied out of the corner made from her elbows at her intruder and was nervous to find it was Remy. Taking a deep breath, she heaved a great sigh and threw her head back, "Yeah Cajun?"

"Why'd ya run away?" Rogue refused to look at him, her embarrassment was too strong. But she could hear the curiosity and worry in his voice.

She denied it, "Ah didn't run away, don't know what yah're talkin' about."

A rough snort was the immediate answer, the warm air flowed over her cooled body as he spoke, "Dat's a lie right enough belle, dat Remy knows. He knew somet'ing was up de minute ya stood up; ya were lookin' like a hound dog dat lost its favorite squeaky toy ta another hound dog."

An ill repressed smile cut across Rogue's lips and she finally raised her head, her clear green eyes appraising him, "Oh really. And where in the nahne circles of hell didya come up with that?"

A shadow passed her face and Rogue stared him in the eye as he came ever closer and closer until his mouth was beside her ear, breathing in delightfully hot pants of air every time he spoke, "Maybe 'cause ya only ran away once Wanda asked Remy out fo' a beer, hein?"

She jerked back, her head hitting the hard metal bars sharply but she ignored the pain. "And yah said…?" she asked breathlessly. She didn't even bother to act like she had no idea what he was talking about, it would have been a waste of her time and his, not to mention an insult to their intelligences.

He watched her sadly, his brilliant eyes though slightly dimmed, shimmered and pulsed in the dark atmosphere, almost hypnotizing Rogue, "Aw Rogue, what could Remy say? She has Johnny; dat relationship is already messed up enough wit'out Remy comin' in and screwing t'ings up more, n'cest pas?"

She nodded, her eyes cast downward yet again.

"…'sides," he drawled softly, his rough bourbon and honey smoked voice echoing delicately in the darkness, "Remy told her dat he would only go out wit' her if his Roguey, in a sane state o' mind, told him ta."

Stunned, Rogue raised her head and gaped at him like an idiot. Then threw her lithe arms tightly around his neck, though she was careful to keep her skin far enough away from him so as to not be a threat. "Aw Remy, ah'm sorry…I'm just so confused, ah wanted tah know how yah came here. And then when yah wouldn't tell meh I figured that yah had tah be a trick of mah mahnd and-" but she stopped and shot him a strange look, "Remy, sugah, ah did tell yah tah go ahead and go out with Wanda."

"Oui, mais Remy said only when his Roguey was in a _sane_ state o' mind. Don' t'ink a coma really counts, do ya?" he winked at her as she laughed aloud.

She smiled wistfully at him, "So does this mean ah'm forgiven?"

He tiled his head upward and squinted at the heavens as if in thought. "On one condition." He said finally.

"What's that?"

Shifting back, Remy sat on his heels and crossed his arms stubbornly before him before giving Rogue a wary look, "Remy wants a kiss." He announced.

Rogue turned a bright shade of red. Then green. And finally stark white before reverting back to her natural pallor. She swallowed thickly and fell silent for a minute. Then she smiled, and her eyes twinkled with her natural spitfire personality, "Fahne." She declared finally, but put a hand to his chest as he leaned forward, "Unhuh!" she taunted, waggling her index finger back and forth, "Remy never said when, so ah get tah choose."

He grimaced and then blew out a frustrated gust of air, "Aw fuck."

Rogue's peel of laughter was enough to wake up the monkeys, a bear or two and the lions.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose; as far as he could tell, a killer migraine was coming and he wanted to be able to think clearly. "Let me get this straight Ms. Frost." He stated quickly, "You want us to believe that somehow Remy threw his consciousness into Rogue's mind?"

"It's not unprecedented my old friend." Answered the professor.

After Emma's wild announcement, the four fully grown X-mansion mutants had taken a mental step back and were trying to figure out it was actually possible. To believe that a young mutant such as Gambit had actually taken the absurd risk of throwing himself, if not body and soul then certainly mind, into the unknown mindscape of the mansion's least mentally stable member; well such a thing was taking a leap of faith for most of them. They all knew about the unsaid emotions between the Rogue and Remy, but never once had any of them thought that such feelings might be anything stronger than a crush.

Storm looked over to where Emma was still standing next to the beds with her brow furrowed in thought, "Emma, what do you propose we do then?"

The blonde shrugged, "No idea. The one good thing though is that this is definitely the first step, knowing where to focus; Rogue. Also, I noticed that when I was in Remy's mind he still has a link, so when this is over he should be able to return back with little to no harm done." For that was what the figure at the window had turned out to be; it had taken Emma an uncomfortable series of minutes before she had realized that though Remy was gone, he could eventually go back. If they found him in time.

"That still doesn't answer the question of how it happened!" Hank interjected with no little heat. The implication that his machinery wasn't enough to help the two young mutants…that he wasn't enough to help them, well, it just wasn't going to happen.

"Hank," Logan said wryly as he chewed around his cigar, "We beat up giant metal robots, every person in this room can do things that would strike terror into the heart of any good normie, and ya're wonderin' how the hell it could have happened?"

For the first time since she met Wolverine, Emma snickered at the expense of someone else.

"Yes well," the professor broke in firmly before a fight broke out between the more animalistic members of his staff, "I have a theory that if Emma and I were to concentrate on one figure, in this case Rogue, then we may be able to find both her and Remy before any damage is done."

Storm crossed her arms and her gaze flickered between one comatose body to the next, "But Rogue has such strong mental blocks. Are you sure two will be enough?"

Emma mimicked her, crossing her arms but she took Storm's pose one step further; she sneered in derision, "Who do you suggest? Ms. Grey? From what I heard Charles already vetoed that option on the grounds of her inexperience for such a delicate operation."

"Hey," Logan warned, pointing a single finger in Emma's direction, "Don't ya dare mock Red, she's tough and talented. Ain't her issue that you learned ya skills at the knee of known criminals while prancing around in leather lingerie."

"I'll have you know darling that such wear is of the very highest fashion now and days." Emma sniffed haughtily.

"Yeah for the red light district."

"Oh go chase down a Saber tooth you Neanderthal." The former White Queen snapped.

Both Logan and Emma's body language screamed for a fight. The tendon's in Logan's neck stood out with the effort it required to not throw himself at the woman and gut her like a fish. Emma had already hardened her body, the florescent overhead lights dancing and cutting through the facet's of her skin as she flipped her diamond strands of hair over her shoulder and relaxed her body in preparation for the coming battle.

"Children," said the professor idly as if he wasn't really paying attention, "You may squabble later." He was sitting comfortably next to Rogue's bed and had taken her still gloved hand in his own. He patted it gently, as a grandfather might do to a favorite grandchild, "We have more important things to do. We have one more day my X-men, a day before the fate of these two are decided. I am praying that Scott will come to have mercy but sadly I do not have such high hopes that it will be so soon."

Ororo nodded, "Yes, Charles you are right. Wolverine, stand down. They have work to do."

"But she-" Wolverine ground out indignantly.

Emma interrupted, "He called me a hooker!"She placed her sparkling hands on her hips and glared at the shorter man.

"Iffen the bra fits sweetheart."

Hissing in fury, Emma hauled back her fist. Then she stopped, her very air around her was crackling with energy, she could feel her silken blonde hair frizzing slightly. Overhead a small thunder storm broke out; both fighters glanced at Storm. Her eyes were clouded over completely and each strand of her pure white hair was standing almost on end, her normally serene face was a mask of anger, "I do believe I said _stand down_."

The crack of thunder was enough to get the point across; Wolverine retracted his claws and Emma reverted back to her normal form. Each figure glared balefully at the other, mentally promising a rematch when everything of over and done with. Without another word, Logan stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. The thunder cloud above their heads dissipated quickly.

"Bit touchy isn't he?" Storm chuckled at Wolverine's temper tantrum, in the corner by his machines, Beast grinned, knowing just how Logan's temper could have exploded.

"Mmm…yes, I think that was just a minor outburst as well." He nodded towards Emma, "Ms Frost, I'd sleep with one eye open tonight."

The professor ignored the furor and gestured for Emma to come towards him, "Emma, dear, stand on the other side of Rogue if you will."

The tall blonde moved gracefully to the other side of the hospital bed and placed her hands on the thin mattress and watched the professor for her cue. Without another word, Xavier raised his hands to his temples, and in perfectly synchronized movements, Emma copied him; their eyes closed.

The room was silent as Hank and Storm watched the two still figures, their bodies hunched over Rogue and Remy's. The minutes ticked away slowly. First five minutes passed. Then ten. Storm and Hank exchanged a nervous glance; then a harsh, stifled noise broke the quiet.

It was Emma. Her forehead was wrinkled uncharacteristically, and was shiny in a cold clammy sweat. A low strained moan ripped from her mouth as if it had been wrenched from her very soul. Tearing her hands from her temple, Emma panted as her chest heaved in an effort to drag enough air into her lungs. Her hair and body were drenched in a sickly sweat. Disgusted, she lightly pulled her damp shirt away from her slim frame.

Panting lightly as well, the professor rubbed his damp forehead and his temples; light purple bruising on either side was already popping up from the pressure he'd used. Xavier opened his eyes and watched Emma as she unglued her clothing from her body, "Emma, did you see anything?"

She shook her head, "No. The girl has some of the best mental defenses I've ever seen!"Pale blue eyes crested over the inert girl's form in admiration.

"Yes," the professor said mildly, "but they aren't entirely natural."

Hank shrugged, "Well sure. We all know that Rogue assimilates anyone she touches, but the psyches fade away after a while." But Charles shook his head.

"I'm not so sure old friend. Emma," the younger telepath tilted her head, "when you were trying to get into Rogue's head, did you sense anything?"

"To be honest, it was a jumble. Emotions, pieces of thoughts….various power signatures."

Charles smiled and nodded, "Exactly. Power signatures. The way she is, Rogue has access to every power that she has ever come in contact with. While I was trying to find my way I sensed Jean's telekinesis, Kitty's intangibility, Kurt's teleportation…many others."

Storm was curious, "So, you're saying that what is stopping you from entering Rogue isn't just the mental blocks? It's actually everyone in her head?"

Emma smirked, "Schizo!" she sang softly.

The air grew thick and heavy, and Storm glared at the younger woman, "Do not make me show you why I was a Goddess in my homeland."

Emma laughed and carelessly waved her hand, "You wouldn't dare."

Storm's eyes narrowed and her mocha colored lips curled back, "I never said I'd do it here my dear."

The implicit threat hung as heavy as the air did between the three mutants. Emma helplessly gestured at her clothing, "Give me a break, you're a woman…you understand of course that I can't have my clothing ruined. It's Dior darling, besides, it'll take weeks of drying cleaning to get the sweat out as it is. Charred silk is even harder to repair." She knew that if it came down to hand to hand combat, she was going to beaten to a pulp. Diamond wouldn't do any good against Mother Nature.

Storm smiled. A chilling sight to the already more than slightly frightened blonde, "What a shame that salt water is such a good conduit."

Retreating behind the professor, Emma threw her hands up and cried out, "What the hell is it with this place! Everyone wants to kill you!"

Hank walked over and gently took her soft hands in his clawed ones, "My dear, you must understand. Here in the X-mansion, we are a family. We care for our own. The merest implication that something is wrong with one means that something is wrong with all."

Emma allowed a trite smile to cross her face as she gently pulled her hands free, "Hmm…yes, and yet I notice that for the past few weeks only half a dozen members of this 'family' has even bothered to care about the two people down here." she pointed a condemning finger at Remy and Rogue's bodies, "No one cares but you three, the Neanderthal, and three children. Face the facts, maybe this Cyclops person was right."

She was so astonished by this announcement, that Storm dropped her burgeoning storm and gaped instead at the woman before her. A strangled grunt of pain came from Hank's spot next to the Professor. Charles simply watched Emma in silence.

Beast wiggled his claw in his ear, tilted his head to the side and slapped his ear a few times, "I'm sorry," he said, squinting his eye as he gave the side of his head a few more smacks, "I think I just misheard you."

An intense look entered Emma's face, "No Mr. McCoy, I don't believe you did." Nodding to the professor and Storm, she turned around and walked towards the infirmary door.

"Emma." Charles said softly, his voice low but resonating firmly through the sterile room, "we had a deal."

As she put one foot firmly before the other, Emma strode confidently towards the exit, "Yes we did Charles. And I did my part, I tried. That was all I promised." She never looked back as the door slid shut behind her, blocking the sight of the stoic, pained and furious faces.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Rogue lifted her face up into the breeze and breathed deeply, enjoying intense fresh scent of the pines as it radiated through her senses as Remy smiled at her, for the first time since they appeared in Germany, his sunglasses stashed away in his coat pocket. She and Remy had snuck away from the circus, just to have some time alone to talk and think. They had been offered parts in tonight's act; Rogue on the tightrope and Remy on the trapeze. It was what they had been working towards for the weeks since they had spontaneously joined the nomadic montage of people and animals.

"Why do yah think Amanda still hates meh?" Rogue mused aloud as she lounged on her back, staring aimlessly at the fluffy clouds overhead.

Remy shook his head, his eyes now back on the two of hearts in his hand, his game of solitaire of primary importance, "Je ne sais pas Roguey."

Rogue hummed softly, one gloved arm twisted behind her head and the other playing gently with the hairs along Remy's head. "Do yah think that Wanda's mad at meh?"

"Mmmhhmmm." She winced at that, if there was one person she didn't want upset with her it would be the Scarlet Witch.

"Think we'll ever get home?"

"Mmhmmm."

"Is the sky really blue Remy?"

"Hhhhhmmmm." Lifting her head Rogue saw that Remy was gently tapping his bottom lip with the corner of a five of spades. She groaned aloud and flopped back onto the grass.

"Remy, yah're not even payin' attention sugah."

"Mmmm yeah, dat's right p'tite. Ya do what ya want."

Grabbing a fistful of grass, Rogue ripped it from the roots and quickly sitting up, she chucked the entire dirt clod right into the side of Gambit's head. Dirt exploded in all directions, flying like harmless shrapnel through the air, then slowly raining back to the ground. Remy sat there for a minute, then slowly turned to his left to find Rogue sitting there glowering at him at a low simmer.

"What. De hell. Was. Dat fo'?!" he exclaimed, scrubbing the side of his face with the sleeve of his coat. Scowling at the girl before him, Remy cocked his head to the side and jiggled it in an effort to dislodge the clumps of dirt he could swear he felt rattling around in there.

Huffing, Rogue crossed her arms, "Yah weren't even listening tah meh."

"Well Remy'd say he was all ears, mais he t'inks dat ya took a piece o' one wit' dat throw dere."

"Good thing yah got enough good looks tah pull it off then huh Cajun."

They were glaring at each other when Rogue caught sight of the smudge of dirt alongside Remy's face. It started just below his earlobe, traveled around his cheek and onto the tip of his nose; like a perfect little trail that she could have walked with her fingers if she hadn't felt that he might just blow them off with one kinetic thought. Bubbles developed low in her stomach, gurgling their way upwards until they escaped and she realized it was a laugh that she had been desperately trying to hold in, if only for his sake. Poor Remy, he just looked too ridiculous.

"Yeah, yeah mock poor Remy all ya want chère."

Still chuckling to herself, Rogue leaned over and licked her first two fingers on her right hand. Grabbing Remy's face with her left, she deftly began to scrub as best she could with her gloves, "Now hold still, yah missed a spot." Mercilessly she scoured his face, ignoring his cries of pain and indignation. Satisfied, she sat back and grimaced at him, "Big baby, yah'd think I was tearing yahr face off instead of cleaning it."

Remy reached up and grasped her gloved fingers firmly in his hand. Catching her eyes, he slowly brought it down and lightly kissed each glove tipped digit. His burgundy and onyx eyes bored into hers and Rogue could feel a body melting flush begin at the crown of her head and tingle all the way down to her toes, which curled deliciously in her shoes. "What was that foh?" she asked breathlessly.

His answering smile was so sinful Rogue belatedly wished that she had thought to bring along the tiny vial of holy water Kurt wore around his neck. The Cajun truly looked the part of Diable Blanc; his lips curled tauntingly upwards in a crooked grin that set her heart racing and his eyes simmered at her in a low pulse that was so mesmerizing she had no idea which way was up at the moment.

"Because, ya treat Remy like he be special belle."

Her eyes softened and a slow smile graced Rogue's lips, the sight of it tugging at Remy's heartstrings, "Aw, don't yah worry none Cajun; Ah thahnk ah owe ya a lil bit o' special tahme. Especially after the way ah acted befoh…" casting her glance downward, Remy could feel her spell shatter softly around him and he shook his head at the beaten look on her face.

Gently he placed his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face up until he could clearly see the glitter of her emerald eyes, "Non, Remy shoulda understood dat ya were feelin' a lil lost p'tite."

Rogue's mouth quirked upwards and she chuckled as she quickly grabbed his hand and held it in her gloved one, "Well, how's about we both just agree that we were wrong and leave it at that?"

He nodded slowly, his slow burning gaze never leaving her face, "Oui, Remy agree dat it might be best." He nudged her ribs, " 'sides, ya're too stubborn anyways ta admit dat Remy be right."

Rogue snorted but didn't reply.

The oddly warm breeze crested through the trees, bringing with it the smells and sounds of the not quite so distant circus as its members rushed around trying to prepare everything for the show that night. Rogue tilted her head back and closed her eyes, relishing the feel of the wind as it teased and played with her heavy auburn hair. She almost started in surprise to feel that it wasn't the sun and wind that was playing with her hair, but Remy's nimble fingers that combed through it gently. A low hum started at the back of her throat as she relaxed into the caress.

"Chère?" Remy asked softly.

Rogue murmured back.

"Ya like it here vraiment?"

Rogue's eyes blinked slowly open as she thought through the question. Did she like it here? "Surely do sugah, why the question?"

"Jus' a t'ought really…mais, remember what Remy said before? About how ya have ta do sumthin' befo' ya can leave?" Rogue nodded, and he continued, his hands never leaving her thick tresses as the curls wrapped and twisted around his fingers like living creatures, "What iffen we didn' do what needed ta be done? We could stay here and be happy."

It was a strange combination of fire and ice that flooded Rogue's veins at Remy's idea. Could that work? Could they manage to find a way to stay with the circus and live with the rest of the folk? It was true the idea of living with a happy, content Kurt, and a somewhat normal Wanda was tempting. She and Remy both had places now in this world; a purpose….the Professor and Logan wouldn't …_couldn't_…begrudge them that could they?

But did she want to give up the idea of one day returning back to the mansion and coming out of this twisted waking sleep. The need to see Storm and Kitty, her own comfortable bed covered in black and deep green sheets, her walls decorated with her own sketches as well as those by her favorite artists, her computer…aw hell, pop tarts even. It was true she could never truly be away from the mansion's denizens, not if her adventures so far were anything to go on. But what about Remy?

Rogue twisted sideways and angled an eye towards the Cajun, "Dontcha ever wanna see yah family again Gambit?"

She kept her eye trained on him and was equally dismayed and pleased to see some emotion flicker across his face at the mention of his family. She had no idea about them, all she knew and remembered was that they were prominent members of the Thieves Guild down in New Orleans; but for all the time that Remy had been living in the mansion, Rogue hadn't bothered to learn as to why he was there in the first place.

Remy closed his eyes as he spoke, his gloved hands moving gently from the ends of Rogue's hair to her scalp and he softly began to massage it, "Remy has a feelin' dat his body still be in de infirmary, non? So, mon famille will jus' have ta live wit' dat. 'Sides, he'll always remember dem…dat's whats important."

She blinked and Rogue was startled to find that her eyes had teared up as he was speaking. Dashing the unshed tears from her face surreptitiously, Rogue regretfully pulled her hair from his grasp and twisted completely around until she was lying on her stomach and facing him, "Ah can't let yah do that Remy." She said softly as she hesitantly reached out and grasped his hand in hers, squeezing it lightly, "Someone needs tah be able tah get home. Ah always knew that mah powers would come back tah bite meh in the ass at some point…ah don't want them tah drag yah in also."

Remy smiled at her, but it lacked his usual devil may care sparkle, "Hush now." He murmured as he placed a finger against her lips, "Don' say such t'ings p'tite, like Remy could leave ya here just when he's found ya. He's here now, where ya go Remy goes." He shrugged, "Simple as dat, non?"

Rogue growled around the finger he still pressed lightly against her mouth, "Let meh guess, there's no way ah can possibly convince yah otherwise too, raght?"

His smile exploded into an outright smirk, "Damn right Roguey. Ya be stuck wit' dis handsome rogue."

She rolled her eyes and muttered "Crap," under her breath, just loud enough that he heard and chuckled. She then took a deep breath and cut him a sideways glance, "So are we doin' this thang? Staying here?"

"Remy wants ta," he shrugged," Don't know rightly how we'll make it work, mais dat's half de fun, non?"

Rogue nodded, "Sure, ok, so we jus' have tah avoid doin' anythang major…wait," she gasped and her eyes widened, "does this mean that we can't be in the show tonight?"

Gambit's lips pursed as he sat there thinking for a minute. Rogue watched him as he deliberated; for her it would be tortuous if they had to miss out on such an opportunity…but if they missed one show would that mean that they had to miss every show? Before Remy could comment, Rogue cut back in, "Remy, ah just had an idea…if we do stay here, and do the shows, wouldn't they end up being no big deal? So this should be fahne, raght? Ah mean, we hafta set a precedent at some point don't we?"

He grimaced a little at her logic but had to agree that it was sound enough. Course it helped that they both wanted desperately to get out there and perform with the rest of the circus. Satisfied with their decision and happier than she had been for quite some time, Rogue checked her watch. They had to join the rest of the crew around four in order to start getting ready and go through a few practice runs before the big show.

It was a little after four, so Rogue scrambled upright, yanked Remy up with her and together they sprinted down to the chaos of the circus.

Sitting in the makeup tent, Rogue watched herself in the mirror as she carefully applied the bright red lipstick and enough blush to make a hooker look away in shame. Grasping her wild curls high upon her hair, she slicked it back into a severe bun and proceeded for several minutes to fight with the minute hairs that fought for control. Hair and makeup finished, she then ducked around a modesty screen and slithered into the skin tight suit that hugged her body; around her waist, sewed into the slick material was an airy, slashed skirt of some light and free fabric that seemed to defy gravity every time she moved. The first itme she had seen the costume, she had asked Wanda who had designed it. The colors, a deep, gleaming green shot through the swirls of gold that caught the eye and held the attention was not something that she would have automatically chosen for herself though she had to admit it was far more attractive than anything the other acrobats wore save for possibly Kurt. Rogue knew that Wanda hadn't had anything to do with her costume's construction, her fellow mutant was all thumbs when it came to the domestic arts; but she allowed Wanda to hedge around the details. It didn't matter who made the damn thing, all that mattered was that someone had accepted her enough to go through all the trouble in the first place.

Slipping on her thin wire shoes, Rogue nearly tripped out of the tent and fell into the sturdy figure of her foster brother. "Thanks Kurt," she said gratefully, "Ah think Wanda might have killed meh if I'da gotten any dirt on mah costume befoh the show."

He winked at her, "Anything to help meine freund. Excited about tonight Fraulein?"

She nodded, "Sure am sug, been a long while since ah've been able to have such fun." She glanced around and was stunned to notice that they were basically alone, "Where're Remy, Amanda and Wanda?"

Kurt wrapped his arm around her shoulders and together they began walking towards the big tent, "Remy's vit ze other trapeze artists, John came home early from Australia so he and Wanda are reacquainting themselves." He grinned in the dusky light, his white fangs gleaming in the dimness, "und meine liebchen is vit ze lions preparing them for the show."

Rogue shivered softly, "So this is it then huh?"They had just walked into the tent and the sight before Rogue was one of a stunning mixture between pandemonium and total control. The noise level was almost deafening as the tamers almost casually brought their charges under control, the clowns were huddled around what appeared to be one of their dilapidated jalopies that miraculously always held about twenty of them, their pancaked faces serious in repose during the discussion. The trapeze artists, Remy included Rogue could see, were setting up the wires and checking the safety. Her fellow tightrope walkers were chatting amicably as they stretched along the floor, the smell of fresh, woodsy sawdust permeating throughout the air, over powering any other far more natural odor. A warming sensation washed over Rogue as she realized that for the first time in what felt like years, she had the odd welcoming sensation of coming home.

Being a part of such a ragtag group was reminiscent of the mansion in so many ways, Rogue knew then and there that she and Remy had made the right choice in staying. When one door closes, you always take the next and hope it can be just as good if not better. Smiling warmly down at her, Kurt gave Rogue a ginger one armed hug, "Ja, zis is it. Go, have fun und enjoy." Releasing her, he bounded off and began chattering with a slightly amorphous looking man in a bland suit near the other acrobats.

Ignoring the shouts of camaraderie from her new found friends, Rogue walked smoothly across the slightly sticky floor towards the tall slim figure. As she walked she started chanting firmly in her head, _Ah can do this, jus' don' think about it Rogue and yah'll both survive._ Desperately she tried to ignore the crushing panic that threatened to overtake her senses before she accomplished her goal.

Slipping up behind Remy, she reached out and tapped his shoulder. When he turned around, she shot him a somewhat weak smile but it seemed to catch his attention enough that she was able to twitch her finger and have him follow her to one of the few darkened corners of the tent.

Once she felt that they were sufficiently hidden by the shadows, Rogue took a deep breath, turned around and threw herself into his surprised arms. Remy opened his mouth in shock, possibly to ask what was going on but before he could get more than half a syllable out, she had grasped the back of his head and slid her mouth across his in a quick kiss.

Instantly she regretted her action.

Now that she had actually gone through with the act of kissing Remy, how in the world did she stop? Once he had figured out what was going on, Remy's mouth had softened beneath hers and was moving gently in a way that caused a startled gasp to escape her lips. She'd always known the boy was quicksilver but she hadn't had a clue that he would have been this dangerous, kissing him was like knowingly drowning in molasses. In some distant part of her brain, she was pleased to hear a low groan come from Remy. Taking this as a good sign, she wrapped her arms around his neck and wound her gloved fingers deeply into his hair, forgetting her fear, her anxiety and only recognizing her body's desire for more contact.

His arms snaked around her waist and yanked her so firmly against his lean body that she could feel almost every hard plane and angle, the thin contoured clothing doing nothing to hide every curve of their bodies from each other. When his hands began to travel southwards along the curve of her back and the dips and swells of her hips, Rogue wrenched herself back and ended the kiss, panting with the effort. Good lord she hadn't known that such an action could have left her so desperate for more! If she had, she might have chosen a more fitting place for such a spectacle.

Her hand shaking slightly, she reached up and touched her tingling lips, feeling their numbness as the energy pulsed and hummed through her body, "That was yah're kiss." She whispered distractedly, her luminous eyes wide from the shocking aftermath of feeling so much after so long. A warped analytical part of her wondered if kissing was like that period, or if it was simply because it had been Remy. She hoped it was the latter.

She was pleased to note though that Remy looked equally startled, "Damn." He murmured, and something in her jerked pleasantly at the way he was looking at her. It was as if she was water after a long trek through the desert and a large hot fudge sundae all at the same time; desperately needed for survival and desired all in one fell swoop. He reached his long arms out to pull her back, but she deftly danced out of his way and smacked his hands.

"Yah only said a kiss Gambit, not an entire make out session."

He grinned at her lasciviously, "What de hell was Remy t'inking den? Next time he'll bargain fo' more dan jus' a taste. Dat was almost cruel chère, how's a garcon supposed ta perform after dat?"

She gave him a one shoulder shrug and a slow smile from beneath her lashes, "Consider it incentive maybe?" Then reality seemed to fall from the sky like a pile of bricks, "Oh mah god."Underneath her brilliant makeup, Rogue paled as what she had just done came upon her full force. She had acted in full knowledge of what was supposed to happen; she had known that kissing Remy would have deprived the trapeze artists one of their own, but for her it was Rogue's way of saying good luck and stay safe. She hadn't honestly expected him to continue standing on his own two feet after the fact. It defied all reason!

Remy's grin widened and it was obvious that he knew exactly what was going on through her mind, "Remy's guessing dat ya powers, dey don' work here den?"

A squeak escaped from the panic struck woman. In sympathy he gathered her up in his arms and stroked her air, murmuring reassurances, "It be fine p'tite. Relax Roguey, t'ink… nous sommes un show d'accord? Can't go out dere all stressed, Kurt'll kill Remy iffen ya fall from de rope. After de show we'll come back et find out what happened, d'accord?" He pulled her back and stroked her face gently, his entire face in awe of such an opportunity.

She carefully nodded her head, as if the movement alone would be enough to jog her mutant abilities and turn this day dream rapidly into a nightmare, "Fahne," she replied breathily. She just hoped that her sudden spike of adrenaline wouldn't ruin everything. So far, this was the best moment of her life; a purpose and the ability to touch, it was everything she had dreamed of so far in her as of yet short existence.

A warning bell rang through the big tent and people scattered this way and that clearing spaces and herding animals to their respective places behind the curtains. Sucking in a deep breath and snatching one last quick stare at Remy, Rogue released him and ran in the direction of her fellow performers. She knew they'd talk after everything had calmed down.

From behind the heavy velvet curtain, Rogue could hear the ringmaster (a normally whiny, short man who's mother was actually one of the clowns) as he exclaimed and announced every act to the wild and shocked applause of the audience. From what she could tell, every performance was going off without a hitch if the shrieks of oooohs and ahhhs were any indication.

Thunderous applause followed Kurt's act, as the lights were darkened in the tent. Rogue watched silently from gap in the curtain as Kurt disappeared and reappeared in rapid succession to the utter awe of the people attending. Every time he would reappear a spot light would search high and low along the tent until it spotted him, then he would leap and disappear in mid jump only to be spotted elsewhere; sometimes among the audience, one time sitting on top of the ringmaster himself. When his performance was over Rogue clapped along with everyone else, though she was frustrated that she had to stay so quiet when all she wanted to do was jump up and down in excitement for her brother.

Standing beside the Ringmaster, Kurt bowed again and again as the master announced the next act, a mesmerizing display of magic by their very own gifted gypsy. Rogue stifled a snort of laughter as she watched Kurt whisper hurriedly to the man exactly why the Scarlet Witch wasn't able to join in the performance that night. She was delighted to see the ringmaster's ears turn a brilliant purple hue in embarrassment.

As the ponies went prancing by instead of the mystical gypsy Wanda, Rogue allowed her attention to waver and instead stared out at the audience. Almost as a single entity they clapped and cheered; the popcorn wagons wheeled around, the scent of piping hot buttery popcorn wafted through Rogue's curtain opening. It reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything before the show as her stomach rumbled threateningly. She ignored it and instead focused on the next performance, the trapeze act.

Though she knew that Gambit was highly skilled and flexible, it always astonished her to watch him put his skills to good use outside of stealing priceless objects. That night she watched him as he tumbled and flipped through the air with the greatest of ease, besting the far more experienced artists without a qualm. It was almost laughable, or at least that's how she saw it; but then she was biased and knew it.

Suddenly she felt herself being yanked back from the curtain and was surprised to see that it was one of her fellow tightrope walkers. Rogue hadn't realized that the show was already over halfway finished, and that they were on next after the trapeze.

In a line, she and two others stood together after they had relaxed themselves enough. When the dull roar of the applause ended for the trapeze act, the Ringmaster announced the tightrope artists. Closing her eyes for a simple second, Rogue sucked in a shallow breath then blew it back out and pasted on a glittering smile as they moved gracefully through the well used velvet curtain.

In retrospect, she had no idea why she had been so nervous. The entire act was almost too natural for her, she could almost perform the steps without breathing, but since it was her first performance Rogue paid strict attention to the fact that the net below them wasn't nearly as close as it had seemed just the other day when Remy had caught her playing around. Whirling around individually and together, the trio moved and melded together in ways that made the surrounding audience gasp and shriek in excitement with almost no pause. It seemed as if mere seconds had passed by instead of fifteen minutes before their routine was finished and all three were back on the ground taking their bows and applause from the audience.

Dancing back behind the curtain, Rogue was happily surprised when she was whisked off of her feet and hauled into a hefty hug by a certain crimson and ebony eyed Cajun. She shrieked and laughed as loud as she dared as she slapped at his wandering hands and fingers. They were both just euphoric over the success of their opening nights. It was as if they finally belonged in this world.

As they hugged the roar of the lions echoed around them and through the curtain. Followed closely by screams. Rogue pulled herself slowly away from Remy's suddenly still figure as it dawned on them that the screaming was not of the happy variety. Without thinking, Rogue shoved her way from Remy's grip and yanked open the curtains. The sight before her was something that even in all of her short years with the X-men she had never imagined.

Devastating red and orange flames flickered against the sides of the tent, crawling up slowly like a stalking viper, devouring the aged cloth. People and animals alike were screaming, for loved ones and their lives. Rogue watched in horror as the flames caught hold of the sawdust floor and quickly swept along the ground moving swiftly.

She whipped around grabbed Remy and ran with him into the fray, "Go! Help the people get outta here!" She shouted, pointing towards the terrified masses as they huddled against the billowing walls. She turned around and prepared to run off in another direction when she was pulled back.

Turning her head Rogue opened her mouth to argue, but her diatribe was swallowed as Remy plied her with a tantalizing promise of a kiss. It was over too soon for her liking, pulling back he nodded at her grimly and sprinted towards the screaming audience members without a goodbye. Rogue bite back the urge to yell at him, and instead turned her attention to the people and animals panicking before her.

For a split second she wondered if Fate was a sick practical joker, then ignored the thought and ran over to Kurt who was trying to convince a little girl that her parents were alright.

"…Please leibling, your Mommy and Daddy are outside, I am sure of it. Let's go find them ok?" he begged the little girl. As she ran up, Rogue could see that she couldn't be more than six or seven, curly brunette hair pulled back into pigtails with large hazel eyes. Seeing the tears in those eyes nearly broke her heart.

She knelt down, smiled up at Kurt and then quickly shifted all of her attention to the child, "Sugah, yah remember the nahce trick the Incredible Nightcrawler did a while ago?"

The little girl nodded her head as if her life depended on it.

Rogue smiled softly at the frightened child, knowing that time was running out. She ran her hand along the girl's pigtails and tugged lightly at one, "Well, ah'm just guessin' but ah think iffen yah ask nahcely, he'll show yah how it was done!" Rogue said brightly, trying to infuse her voice with as much enthusiasm as she could.

The large golden brown eyes blinked in disbelief, "Weally?" she asked.

Rogue nodded at her and then stood up, Kurt grabbed the girls hand, told her to hang on, shot Rogue a grateful look and then disappeared. It wasn't a minute later before he reappeared as she knew he would. "Fahnd her parents?" she asked aloud as they moved quickly, skirting the flames and made their way towards more frightened people.

He nodded," Ja, Remy had them in hand." Allowing herself a quick second, Rogue took pride in how wonderful Remy was before putting her head back into the game.

Once they reached the far group, Rogue quickly took charge and made the people form groups of four, the largest number Kurt could carry without over tiring himself for repeat trips. They were kept busy, make two or three trips per minute. Quickly though, Rogue realized that they needed to hurry. The smoke was taking over the large tent. Shifting people aside, she glanced along the ground in frustration, trying to find something that could work as a knife. Giving up, she stared at the people around her, "Anyone got a pocket knife?" she shouted quickly over the roaring flames. Thankfully, someone did and quickly thrust it in her hand. Flicking open the blade, Rogue wasted no time before she dashed behind the bleachers to a spot the flames hadn't quite reached yet and slashed the canvas in several places. Quickly, a crude but effective door was ready for the group remaining.

Soon no one was left but Rogue. With one foot out of the canvas, Rogue heard a sound that threw chills throughout her body. It was the scream of not only a horse, but of a human as well. Leaving behind her escape route, she ran back into the inferno and was horrified to see Amanda struggling with one of the ponies in the middle of the raging blaze.

A loud crack cut through the fire's roar and Rogue stared upwards, a scream of her own ripping from her vocal chords as one of the support beams holding the tent up splintered and fell to the ground in a shower of flame and noxious smoke. The already filmy figure of Amanda was obscured even more as the flames climbed ever higher, the horse's ear shattering screams and whinnies almost over powering the powerful roar of the blaze.

"Rogue!" a hoarse shout behind her was enough to interrupt her daze, turning around she was stricken to see Kurt leaning against Remy's shoulder. Another quick glance at Amanda showed she had little or no time left, but Rogue took a gamble and dashed backwards towards the boys.

She pointed behind her and screamed for Kurt and Remy to hear as she raced in their direction, "Amanda's in the middle o' the fire! Kurt, yah gotta go get her!"

A heaving gasp wrenched his body and only Remy's grip on him kept Kurt from throwing himself into the flames after his sweetheart. Remy stared at her, his gaze bleak as he shook his head, "Non, Roguey, he used himself up gettin' les gens out…dere's no way he can get her."

Pain wracked through her body at the idea of her brother losing his love, it couldn't be allowed to happen. Taking a deep breath, Rogue threw a beseeching glance at Remy and knew he understood in an instant. His eyes widened till there was nothing but his blood red irises glittering in the fire light, his mouth slashed in an angry denial.

"Non!" he shouted, "Non! Rogue don' ya dare!"

She ignored him, choosing instead to take a leaf out of his book and not say any goodbyes. Stuffing her fingers in her mouth, Rogue ripped the glove from her left hand, figuring she'd need her dominant hand still covered, and moved towards Kurt. "Kurt," she begged softly, "Ah don' know iffen this'll work but we gotta try. Ah can't let Amanda die. Remember mah power?" His head bent farther towards the ground and she took that as an affirmative, in the background she could hear Amanda's screams join the horse's. She screwed her eyes shut and whispered, "Forgive meh." Touching his face gently, Rogue focused only on his teleportation. A split second later she was gone.

A wordless bellow followed her disappearance, Remy's eyes flickering from one place to another but the smoke was getting worse and the flames were relentless. In fact, it was as if they grew more powerful with every minute that passed; he'd noticed that when some of the townsfolk had returned with their only fire truck to help the circus people. The flames seemed to simply swallow the water down, adding it to its list of other victims. Grasping Kurt by his slim waist, Remy slung him over his shoulder and with a final desperate glance around the destroyed tent for either Rogue or Amanda he turned and ran through the escape door Rogue had made.

Outside people were crying, screaming and calling for loved ones trying to make sure that everyone was accounted for. Remy stoically ignored the noise and chaos around him, he carried Kurt a little farther than the group and laid him on the grass, thankful that he was unconscious. He knew that the instant Kurt woke up he'd wish he was dead once he learned about Amanda and Rogue's sacrifice.

Pulling his knees up, Remy buried his head in his lap and broke down, his tears hissing as they plopped onto the burning earth. After all his work trying to save Rogue, to keep her alive and bring her back to the people who loved her. And she had died saving Amanda in her head. Did that mean that she was truly dead? Or was it like a video game and she got multiple lives? Or was her life gone from the body lying prone on the bed in the infirmary…would he ever truly know? Could he get back? If Remy was honest with himself, did he even want to now?

"What's going on? Remy? Where's Rogue?"

Not bothering to wipe the tears coursing down his face, Remy lifted his head and stared at the couple before him. The irony did not escape him that it should have been he and Rogue standing there, holding hands instead of Wanda and who he could only assume was St. John Allerdyce. Slim, with shocking red hair and a slightly maniacal expression on his face, not to mention the nervous habit of flicking open and close a lighter; yeah, it was definitely Pyro.

"There was a fire, p'tite.' He rasped, his voice feeling like it had died with Rogue, "Amanda was trapped wit' one o' de ponies…Kurt couldn't get ta her…so Rogue…" tears started chasing each other along the tracks on his face again and Remy found he couldn't say the words without making them fact.

Wanda gasped, collapsed to her knees and began keening in pain. Not only had she lost an old friend, but a new as well. She yanked John down and sobbed into his flame colored shirt as he ineptly tried to calm her down by muttering soothing words into her hair. Staring dumbly around him, Remy was distantly surprised to see that the flames had withered and died without a struggle, as if what had been sustaining them had finished. An eerie thought crept into Remy's brain and burrowed, taking root and sprouting equally dangerous thoughts.

Twisting his head towards the couple comforting each other, Remy's gaze narrowed at John, "Ya dere, Aussie."

Annoyance flashed across the redhead's face as he glanced around his sobbing girlfriend's body at the interrupting character, "Wot's ya're problem mate?"

"Ya a mutant?" Remy guessed nonchalantly.

He was oddly satisfied to see John's eyes blanch in shock, then narrow until they were mere slits, "so?" he replied, just as nonchalant.

Remy shrugged, "Jus' t'inking how interestin' it is dat dere fire started wit' no reason and suddenly died jus' as ya deux walked up…let Remy guess, ya got de gift to tangle wit' fire and come out smellin' like a rose."

Pyro hissed at the accusation and Wanda raised her tear streaked face towards Remy in astonishment, "Remy! You can't be trying to blame John for the fire, he was with me the entire time!"

His teeth bared in a horrific grin, "Oui, he was wit' ya de whole time…doing the horizontal tango ifffen Remy not be mistaken. But Remy also be guessin' dat when dis one gets all excited he loses control a bit…like maybe someone lit a cigarette? Or, a popcorn machine sparked." The pain leaked through his voice with every word, "Remy also be t'inkin' dat after a coupla months apart Johnny's control ain't so good peut-être?"

The stunned silence was all the answer he needed. Still feeling empty even after getting all his questions answered, Remy buried his head back into his legs and gave his body over to the numbness. He had no idea how long he was sitting like that, but he figured it must have been for quite some time because the fierce heat that came with the fire eventually died down and was replaced by a cool breeze, and the shadows around him lengthened. Yet still, Remy did not move. Kurt never moved either, he neither woke up nor shoved any sign of life. Gambit couldn't bring himself to check; he didn't want to know that he lost not only the girl but her brother as well.

A cool hand caressed his too warm forehead, running around the skin available and then dragging through his smoke tinged hair. The hand dug into the cocoon Remy had made for himself, grasped his chin and pulled his face upwards. He blinked away the glued created by his tears and gasped out a scream. Brilliant green eyes stared back at him. "Is Remy dead? Was he finally good enough ta get inta Heaven?" he breathed desperately as he drank in the sight of Rogue before him.

The apparition shook her head and knelt before him, "Aw Rems, naw. It's jus' meh. Ah got out, and got Amanda out too." She smiled at him and stroked his face tenderly, "Ah'm jus' glad that yah and Kurt made it out in one piece….other people weren't so lucky." A shadow crossed her otherwise happy expression, "Too many people died today." Then she glanced to his right and saw Kurt's prone body and sucked in a deep breath before searing Remy to the core with her piercing gaze, "Kurt? Is he…?"

He shook his head, "Remy ain't had de heart ta check Rogue, he t'ought ya were dead belle." Fresh tears cascaded along the old one's tracks, only to be stopped by gloved fingers.

"Shhh…" Rogue crooned softly, "It'll be ok Remy, ah'm sorry ok? But ah gotta check Kurt otherwise Amanda'll have mah hahde." Releasing his face, she crawled over to the still body of her brother and twisted her fingers around his neck to check his pulse. Then she leaned down and put her ear next to his mouth to check his air flow. Remy watched as she finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh thank god, ah was so worried that either ah had taken too much or that the smoke had gotten tah him…"

Remy scooted beside her and yanked her into his lap, snuggling her into his embrace, "Don't ya dare do dat again Rogue. If it hadn' been fo' ya're brother he woulda jumped in dere after ya and den where would we be?" Lifting her hair away from her smoke scorched neck, Remy ignored her squirms and began placing light kissed along the pulse point.

She sighed and relaxed in his arms for a second. "Remy," she murmured as he continued his ministrations on her neck, "Listen, ah'm sorry…ah had tah do that and now ah think we're in trouble."

Pulling away from her neck he stared at her in worry, "What's wrong?"

She smiled a little sheepishly, "Ah did somethin' major?"

"Aw Rogue, Remy'd rather ya did dat dan die!" He chuckled morosely and kissed her neck again, "He don' care where we are next…hell, he'd even take de Titanic, or de Hindenberg rather dan go t'rough dat again."

"Mmmm," Rogue nodded sleepily, then winced, "Aw shit, it's already startin'. Remy, sugah call Amanda over here."

Remy let a piercing whistle ring in the night air and called loudly for Amanda. Quickly she ran over as fast as her smoke soaked lungs could let her.

"Rogue, oh thank heavens, you found him." Remy winced at the sound of her voice. Amanda's normally soft and warm voice was raspy and dead, as if it actually belonged to a crone well past her centennial.

Rogue smiled softly at the other woman from her perch in Remy's arms, "Sure did, but look 'Manda, we're not gonna be able to stick around much longer so please look after him? Ah know yah will anyways, but make it extra special foh meh…he's lahke mah brother."

Amanda was silent for a long minute, just staring at Rogue wrapped up in Remy's arms. "I'm so sorry," she muttered as loudly as she could, "I was horrible to you and all you did was be a sister to Kurt and save my life."

Wincing as carefully as she could so as to not call attention to it, Rogue cracked one eye open and peered at Amanda, "Yeah, what the hell was that about girl? Ah neveh did anythang tah yah."

"At first," she warbled, her throat overworking itself, "I hated you because you got along with Kurt so easily, I was worried that you were going to do something to him because of how he looked…that all your niceness was a ruse. Remy it was easy to tell is a mutant but you…I didn't believe it even when Kurt told me. I am sorry." She stared at her feet and then glanced back at the pair, her warm chocolate brown eyes sparkling with the beginnings of tears, "Can you forgive me? At the very least I hope you liked your costume."

Rogue started in shocked and gaped at the woman. Gently she let a hand run down the side of her now smudged, burnt and smoldered outfit, the remnant of a once beautiful costume designed by a master. "That was you? God Amanda, it's ok…ah was just always curious as tah why yah hated meh, but thank yah so so much…the costume, it was beautiful. A much better thank yah than ah deserve." A muffled groan fought its way from her mouth and Remy tightened his grip on Rogue's waist, the pinching, numbed feeling creeping into his body and mind as well.

He could feel Rogue going quickly, so he eyed Amanda, "Girl, take ya man and go get him some help…he'll be out fo' a bit but then he'll be fine." Shooing her away, Remy was satisfied finally to see her half carry half drag Kurt back towards the gypsies as she hesitantly kept eyeing the pair over her shoulder. He chose to ignore her and instead concentrated on the girl in his arms. Pulling Rogue close to his body, Remy closed his eyes and focused on the feel of her in his arms and not on the painful sounds that came from her tortured body. He knew the end had come when she went still and the lack of feeling had finally made its way to behind his eyes. Then he let go and knew no more.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Sorry it took so long to update...i wanted to get this chapter just right and even now there are some things that i might change in the future. Out of all of my fanfictions, Ophelia always takes the longest to write for some reason lol Anyways, enjoy...please read and review! There needs to be more reviews before i update again. Suggestions, comments...and if anyone can spot the botched Tennessee Williams quote you my friend will get the privilege of a dozen imaginary snickerdoodles...which are so good, i cannot even come up with the words.**

**REMEMBER...READ AND REVIEW FOLKS! **

**Enjoy :-D**


	7. Ruby Slippers and Sensical Nonsense

Disclaimer: Do not own X-men Evolution, just read and enjoy

Ophelia was a tempest cyclone

A goddamn hurricane

Your common sense, your best defense

They wasted , and in vain

For Ophelia 'd know your every woe

And every pain you'd ever had

She'd sympathize and dry your eyes

Help you to forget...

And help you to forget

And help you to forget

Rogue blinked her eyes several times, in rapid succession, her surroundings a grey colored blur. "Aw damn," she muttered. It shouldn't have been a surprise that they were back in the colorless landscape, but she couldn't help the twinge of disappointment that settled in her stomach. Unlike the time before, they weren't surrounded by the disquieting dark grey boulders, but in the middle of what appeared to be rows and columns of the things, each one only a few feet apart from its neighbor. Rogue didn't know what was worse, that every time she came here, things were different or that she expected them to be the same.

Glancing beside her, she was comforted by the fact that she wasn't alone. Remy was sprawled out, legs and arms akimbo his jaw hung loose, a rattling breath and a slowly rising chest the only indication that he was alive.

Biting her lip, the last thing she wanted to do was interrupt his well earned sleep, but the idea of staying in such an unnerving place frightened her more than a grumpy Cajun. She reached over and none too gently began to poke and prod him awake. Thankfully it didn't take long; after the first gentle stab with her index finger, Remy didn't move an inch. Rogue continued poking him, becoming more and more frustrated as the minutes passed before she realized what was going on. Slapping her forehead, Rogue quickly stopped attempting to poke the senseless man and instead leaned down to his ear.

"Remy!" she hissed loudly, then quickly ducked her head to avoid being pummeled by angry fists as the Cajun began to flail about as he woke up finally.

His cinnamon colored hair tousled, his head popped up, only one eye open and he stared at her, his eyes out of focus, "Howza whazit?"

Giggling, Rogue shrugged apologetically, "Sorry sugah, ah feel bad since ya'll were sleepin' so peaceful lahke, but ah just couldn' stay another second in this god awful place alone."

His sleepy answering smile was sweet and sent flutters through her body. "Notta problem chère, shouldn' have fallen asleep anyways." He sat up and stretched his arms far above his head, the cracking of his spine audible in the bleak atmosphere. Standing up, he extended his hand and helped Rogue to her feet, the momentary touch was enough to cause an ache for both of them. They knew this place hindered their ability to feel, but the memory of their one and only kiss seemed almost too cruel.

Feeling the ache spreading, Rogue quickly retracted her hand and smiled sadly at Remy, hating the pained look crossing his face. "Sorry sugah." she said softly.

His eyes crinkled softly in understanding, "C'est d'accord Roguey."

She breathed deeply and let it out in a gush, "So...what should we do now?"

He shrugged, "The same thing we do every night?" he rubbed his hands together diabolically, "try and take over the world!" Remy let out a cackle which echoed softly through the nothingness.

Rogue blinked at him, stunned, "Darlin', no more cartoons with Jamie, 'k?"

He blushed slightly, "Can' help it belle, the boy, he has the best taste in Saturday morning 'toons."

Smirking, Rogue ruffled his hair softly, "Good to know. So," she clapped her hands together, "since we are currently surrounded by these diabolical lil things," she gestured at the rocks, "where to?"

Shrugging, Remy looked at her blankely, "Don' have a clue chère. Why you look' at Remy' fo?"

" 'Cause last tahme yah were the one who touched one of the damn thangs LeBeau!"

"That don' mean it'll be Remy dis time!"

He threw his hands into the air as if to surrender to the sassy woman before him, " 'Sides, don' really know where we'd be headin', n'cest pas?"

Rogue sighed softly, the gust of air doing nothing to interrupt the stillness of the environment, "Ah think that may be the scariest part about it sugah."

He didn't have to say a thing, and she knew that. The understanding that their future, immediate or otherwise, was a little on the grey side needed no verbal confirmation. Instead, Remy gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her an unfelt squeeze, but Rogue knew what he was doing and her heart swelled with affection at his gesture. She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled, "Course, does it really matter where're headin' darlin'?"

He shook his head and gave her an answering grin.

The answering slow honeyed drawl laced itself around her, "Naw belle, we'll be fine."

Rogue closed her eyes and smiled at the comfort his words brought her. It amazed her how close they had gotten in the past few..how ever long it had been. It felt like aeons at this point, but for all she knew it could have just been a few days. In the silence that tried to fill the void around them, Rogue knew she wouldn't be able to leave this man now; too much had happened.

A twinge of regret hit her stomach at the realization that she may never get the chance to see if she even could leave him.

She bit her lip softly and glanced upwards at him, "Remy, do yah'll regret what we did back there?"

"Ya mean wit' Bleu et des autres?"

Rogue nodded, her eyes never quite leaving his. She wanted no lies between them.

Remy shook his head, his hair bouncing from side to side, "Non, Remy don' regret a t'ing chère. How could he? Ya got ta see ya're frére et we saved dose people."

"But the mansion-"

He grabbed her hand and holding it in front of her face, he caught her eyes and lightly gave the fingers within his grasp a butterfly kiss so what she couldn't miss his action, "De mansion will still be dere, non? We'll get back Roguey, don't ya worry none."

Her smile seemed to brighten the gloom hovering around their bodies. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Lightening flashed across Professor Xavier's office floor. The shadows shuddered as the light from the sky strike threatened to penetrate their secluded corners. Xavier sat at his desk, his fingers steepled as they often were when he thought of heavy thoughts and he ignored the tempest ravaging his mansion and grounds.

And they were heavy thoughts indeed. Already, there was less than forty-eight hours to go before Remy and Rogue's fate was decided and Charles Xavier was trying desperately to think of a way to get everyone involved out of the mess and keep Scott satisfied. It wouldn't do for the future leader of the X-men to be shamed in front of his troops.

It was currently four in the morning. Xavier, Storm and Hank had stayed up throughout the night after Emma had left them in the med bay. Hour after hour had passed as Charles sat at Rogue's bedside, concentrating on trying to find two more signatures in a sea already over populated by them. Beyond Rogue's natural mental walls, which were strong enough as it was, she also had her defenses she had developed with the professor's help. Those weren't the problem to get by.

Charles was still in awe. The construction of Rogue's mental defenses left him breathless with its complexity. It wasn't just that with almost every attempt, he was blocked with something akin to a fifty foot silicone wall. No footholds to be found anywhere. It was also that with every pry of his mind, he was bombarded by every personality Rogue had ever come in contact with. And not just every personality, but every incarnation of that personality. Every time Rogue had touched a person, there was a separate psyche for them in her mind. There was little wonder why anyone who tried to go against the sassy southerner was ambushed by the multitudes that resided within her mind.

One time, Charles came up against three different versions of Jean; their combined strength of telekinesis had been enough to forcefully shove him from Rogue's mind scape. The next, he had taken a beating from Wolverine, the Blob and the Hulk. Apparently, every psyche in Rogue's mind was fiercely protective of her, whether or not they were friends or enemies in reality meant little in the micro universe that appeared to be Rogue.

Which is why he was sitting in his darkened office, looking for all the world like a figure from an Edgar Allen Poe short story as he tried to puzzle out how to get around Rogue. Even in a coma, she still maintained her position within the mansion as one of its most difficult denizens.

A hesitant knock tried to interrupt his reverie. He chose to ignore it, hoping they would decide that he was not within. It was such a late hour after all, the mansion should have been asleep.

"Charles?"

Tilting his head upwards, Xavier caught sight of Ororo standing in the illuminated doorway, her long pure white hair in a single braid traveling down her side.

Bleary eyed, she stared at him, still half asleep, "What are you doing up?"

A weary smile crossed his lightly lined face, "What else my dear Ororo? Thinking. Hoping. And praying for a miracle."

Nodding, she walked through the door and shut it softly behind her. "You know you don't have to do this."

He nodded.

"What is stopping you then?"

He breathed deeply and exhaled before speaking. "Partially? Rogue and Remy. Another part, is for Scott and the other children. The last part, I am ashamed to say, is me."

Storm stood there, her tired expression one of complete shock. She shook her head from side to side quickly as if to clear the space between her ears, "I'm sorry Charles, did you say you? Why would you stop yourself from halting this madness?"

"I wish I could say I don't know my dear," Xavier rested his fingertips lightly against the bald pate of his head, "But I know myself well enough to understand that isn't the case."

"Then what." She crossed her arms tightly across her nightgown covered body and watched him closely, "Your pride? Charles, is that what this is about?" A partial nod was all the answer she needed.

"If that is the only reasonable explanation that I am going to get at four in the morning for why this farce of a debate over two of our student's lives hasn't been stopped yet then I don't know who you are anymore Professor."

A soft groan escaped the older man, "You don't think I know that Storm? Every time I go down there and fight to bring at least one of them back from where ever they may be within Rogue's mind, I cannot stand that I let Scott goad me into giving him at least part of what he wanted. At the time, it seemed the smartest thing. I felt confident that between myself and Emma we would succeed."

Storm snorted loudly at the mention of the blonde telepath's name.

"Yes, I agree. It was silly of me to think so. Not just for myself, but for those two poor souls downstairs who now have less than a chance."

Silence came between them. The rain continued to beat against the window in an almost calming tattoo as if to assuage the hurt feelings between them. Storm understood that for all of his extraordinary gifts, Charles Xavier was still just a man of human make, filled with faulty flesh and blood. That didn't necessarily stop her from being upset over his decision to play Russian roulette with two of the student's lives though.

Choosing to ignore the admission to humanity, Storm chose the high road instead. "Did you come up with anything new at least?"

"Nothing except that it appears Rogue's mutation has been developing faster than previously thought. Before, she only had individual psyches for everyone she touched. Now she has multiple. One for every time she touched someone."

"Oh my goddess," Storm whispered, startled at the latest update, "But that doesn't explain why Remy was able to throw himself into Rogue's mind."

Xavier nodded, "True enough, but I believe that our resident Cajun has been keeping several interesting secrets up those voluminous sleeves of his. Such as his power limits and utmost capabilities. Remind me to ask Logan to give him a full run through once we get them back."

Ororo smiled and gave a small laugh, "Logan will love that, he's been itching for someone to spar against since Mystique trashed the tv."

A troubled expression crossed her face and her ice blue eyes clouded in thought, "Charles. If Rogue's mutation has been...changing, for lack of a better word, does that mean that since she has a copy of every person she's ever touched, maybe several times over, she'll be able to have skin to skin contact finally? Can't she just 'tap' into their ability for normal contact?"

"No, I'm afraid not." he replied, his voice soft and heavy at the admission.

"Why not?"

Charles looked saddened by the knowledge, "Rogue's gift is to borrow abilities, powers, traits, fellow gifts. To touch skin to skin...that isn't one of them, it's something she already has the ability to do whether or not she knows it. To touch another person isn't necessarily considered a gift in the evolutionary cycle of things."

For a minute, both of the teachers looked equally frustrated and pained at the thought being deprived of something so necessary to live a happy life.

"Is there anyway we can influence Ms. Frost into helping us? Gags and blindfolds help."

Charles blinked at the tall woman and smiled indulgently, "Now Ororo, I know how you must feel about this-"

She interrupted him, her blue eyes flashing mischievously, "Torture is always an option as well."

"No."

"But Logan would help..."

"No Storm."

"Hank?"

"I don't believe that would do any-"

Storm huffed and threw up her hands, "Fine! We'll sick the children on her, Jamie and Rahne leading the charge."

"Now that might work."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As far as Rogue could tell, they had been stuck in Limbo for a following day and night since she woke there after Germany. They had been a long few days, filled with arguments, cajoling and pleading between herself and Remy. They couldn't agree to agree, or even agree to disagree about what they should do. As far as Rogue could see, Remy believed that if they continued to travel via the boulders then eventually they would get out. She just wanted to smack him; they were traveling within her mind, not along a Monopoly board for God's sake, this wasn't a game. She got the feeling that here there was no "Pass Go, Collect $200."

Rogue on the other hand, couldn't quite get a clear picture of what was happening, but she felt that Remy wasn't entirely off his rocker about what was going on. She could tell that it was important for them to interact among the people she had been meeting. More than likely that was why she knew most of them, though she didn't quite have an explanation for the Sinister episode.

It was night time again. Or at least, that was what they guessed. It was period of time in Limbo, as Rogue had dubbed it, where the grey surrounding them grew darker, a more menacing shade of grey than the pearlescent color they were used to.

She glanced to the right of her and frowned. Remy was lying on the ground, his right arm was being used as a pillow and his left as a rudimentary blanket across his middle. His mouth was open and husky snores kept escaping, his hair falling towards the ground and around his head in a dark reddish brown halo. He had been sleeping for the past few hours, and comfortably at least it appeared. Lucky guy, Rogue watched him jealously, she hadn't been able to sleep more than half an hour before a sense of disquiet forced her awake and her brain had been playing games with her ever since.

It all came back to those damn boulders.

Glaring at the one a few feet before her, Rogue silently willed it to burst into flames. Levitate. Turn bright blue. Grow legs and sing Buck Cherry's "Crazy Bitch," she was willing to take anything at this point. Something to break the quiet menace those hunks of earth seemed to exude. Of course nothing worked. She didn't really expect it to, but it would have been something different.

The darkened quiet sunk into her bones and Rogue shivered as memories flashed through her mind and senses. Fire. Horses. The screaming of women, men, children and animals as they fought and begged for their lives.

The sobbing of Jubilee as they found her huddled in a room, her body drenched in the crimson splatters of her own blood.

The ice blue intensity of Pietro's gaze, the clink of the ice in her glass as it was tipped towards her lipstick bedewed mouth.

She couldn't get rid of them, any of them. The good, the bad, the painful and the excruciating. But then it got worse. Then the memories weren't even hers.

She saw the walls as it caved in, the smell of the dust as it swirled around her and the screams of natives and tourists alike. Her throat was raw from shouting, she wanted her mommy and daddy.

The burst of flavor on her tongue. It was her first kiss, but she could already tell that the distinct tingling of her taste buds came from someone that was pure male. Opening her eyes, she was elated and shocked to see a tall man standing before her wearing bright ruby red shades that glinted sharply in the sunlight.

Prickles. The pinpoint prickles that stabbed her skin repeatedly, then jabbed and twisted. The bone deep ache that wouldn't go away. She felt the terror ooze from her pores at the knowledge that she was being tortured for something she did. But she couldn't remember what. Didn't she train the way they wanted? Kill the way they wanted? She couldn't understand why they needed to put those sharp things into her hands. They told her it was because of someone named Weapon X. Unsheathing her claws, she stared at them in a fury, the pain a blinding force.

Shaking, Rogue pulled herself back. Halting gasps rasped through the still air as she tried to force oxygen into her lungs. Gripping her arms tightly around her drawn knees, Rogue could feel every foreign part of herself warring against what she supposed was her true nature. She was being torn apart and the temptation was almost too much. Already she could tell, that if she hadn't pulled herself back when she did, everything she was would have disappeared into the ether and Rogue would have been no more.

Another glance at the boulder did it for her. The damn thing was taunting Rogue anyways, it needed to be taken care of. And Remy didn't need to know. He would have tried to stop her anyways. Claiming they needed to stick together, that he needed to take care of her. Protect her.

Rogue thickly swallowed the bile was it crawled up her throat at the idea of Remy throwing himself into danger's path for her. It was bad enough things almost came down to that back with the circus. If it ever did actually happen, and he got hurt, Rogue didn't know what she would do. The memory of Vegas flowed through her thoughts as well, causing her to wince.

The early admission that she cared too much for the over bearing, arrogant, cocky man blossomed into outright fear. She needed to make sure he was safe. And apparently the safest place in her mind was in Limbo, surrounded by all the rocks the eye could see for miles and miles.

Quickly, she stood up as quietly as she could. Remy shifted in his sleep, moving closer to Rogue; her breath caught in anticipation of his awakening. How could she explain the need to leave him?

Her breath escaped almost in the same instant as she realized that he wasn't waking up, just making himself more comfortable. Rogue bit her lip at the sight of him, drinking him in as a last memory if need be. Hopefully she would be back, but it was plainly obvious that she could no more rely on what happened within her mind than she could on her powers. Taking a deep breath, Rogue turned and walked towards her staring partner, the rock she had been mentally planning its demise for hours.

Standing beside it, Rogue allowed herself to stand still for a few minutes to see if she was able to feel the almost primal need the rock had previously imposed on herself and Remy. A small, sad smile curved her lips at the realization that she could feel it starting in her heart as the beat turned slightly irregular. She reached out her gloveless hand.

Turning her head at the last moment, Rogue caught a final glance at Remy as the world began to coalesce into television-esque snow. Before everything went blank, her thought was that her fear was going to be realized. She was finally getting the chance to see if she could leave Remy, and it scared her to death.

With a yawn and a few blinks of his unusual eyes, Remy woke up and tilted his head to the side towards his companion with a characteristic grin, " 'ey, Chère..." He fell silent at the realization that she wasn't beside him.

"Rogue?"

In a blink, Remy LeBeau was fully away and scanning the grey landscape for any sign of his Rogue. None. Not even a flash of auburn hair with white stripes in the distance. No ranting, shouting or harsh mumbling.

His eyes flicked from spot to spot and side to side as he fought to figure out what was going on. As far as they had come to know, there was no one or nothing in this...Limbo..as Rogue called it, except for them. So she couldn't have been kidnapped, could she? A cursory glance at the ground told him no. No footprints. Then he mentally called himself an idiot, of course there wouldn't be footprints.

Cursing he ran a hand through his rumpled hair. So where could she have gone? There wasn't anywhere to run to. Besides, Remy sort of thought that they were beyond that by now. Their kiss back at the circus certainly told him that much. Facing towards the sky, he squinted in the direction of where the sun was supposed to be. The last time he had seen her, she had been lying beside him on the ground. Then he had fallen asleep, and that had been the last truly conscious memory he had of her.

Though since Remy was an incredibly light sleeper due to years of Guild training, he could wake up in an instant from the slightest sound. Though that grew more difficult the more comfortable he felt in a setting. Then he merely had waking dreams. Constantly running his fingers through his cinnamon colored hair, he thought back to the prior night and realized that he'd actually had a number of such dreams. But as usual had only chalked them up to a faulty REM cycle.

Rogue muttering, swearing and glaring at something in front of her was the first one that caught his attention. A quick check around their camp area showed that the only object that could be glare worthy was a boulder a couple feet's distance from their sleeping spot; though knowing Rogue as he did, Remy wouldn't have been surprised to know she was bitching out an inanimate object.

The one that caught his attention though, as he cast his memory back, was the one of Rogue getting up from the ground, gracing him with a sad glance then walking towards said inanimate object.

Instantly Remy's eyes were open wide and he turned towards the boulder in fear.

"She wouldn'..." he muttered, as his long legs quickly jogged him towards the rock in a few steps. Remembering the pulsing feeling throughout his body, Remy closed his eyes and waited for it to hit him.

He stood there for ten minutes.

Nothing even so much as tingled.

With a harsh curse word, Remy shot forward and started touching the rock, stroking it, hitting it, coaxing it. He even tried to dig under it with no luck. Wherever Rogue had gone to, Remy couldn't follow.

He was going to kill dat fille when he finally got his hands on her again.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Jean was leaning against the window jamb, her normally smooth forehead wrinkled and her arms crossed as she watched the spectacle in the garden.

The storm that had ravaged the night before had left the mansion grounds glowing. It had gone from overcast to dousing the grounds in brilliant sunshine. Something almost every kid in the mansion was taking advantage of. Frisbees and bodies were flying through the air, muffled shouts and shrieks of delight vibrated against the window pane, just barely catching Jean's attention.

Instead, her light green eyes were focused on the only two stationary figures that were bathed in the sunlight. She was tall, blessed with long blonde hair which was currently perfectly coifed and a slinky white ensemble. And her manicured hands were caressing the arm of Jean's boyfriend. And Scott wasn't exactly pushing the bimbo away as far as she could tell, at least that's what it looked like from the blush that was flushed along his cheeks.

The kind of fury only a redhead can accomplish coursed throughout her body. Her hands morphed into fists as she fought to retain at least partial control over her rampaging emotions. It would not look good for the professor if his guest turned up dead by telepath.

Pushing herself away from the glass, Jean made her way outside and towards the pair, the world around her awash in a reddish light from the bloodlust that had taken over.

Standing a few feet away, Jean stood there, her arms crossed and hip cocked to the side as she watched them exchange sweet nothings. "Ahem."

Jean had to give the bitch credit, she never moved an inch. Scott on the other hand, jumped a foot to the left and flushed scarlet to the tips of his ears.

"Jean! W-w-we've been looking all over for you. Weren't we Ms. Frost?"

Ignoring the fuming redhead behind her, Emma simply batted her lashes at Scott and said only just loud enough for Jean to overhear, "Were we darling? I thought we were just getting to know each other much better. And Scott," she trilled a soft laugh and slapped lightly at his arm, "I told you, please call me Emma."

To his credit, Scott knew when he was in trouble and tried to extricate himself from the blonde's clutches, but her nails gripped him tightly. Flustered, he looked down at her then back at his furious girlfriend, "Uh Jean, we were just discussing the Remy and Rogue issue. That's all, I promise." His blush reversed rapidly as Emma laid her golden head on his shoulder. He never saw her smirk at the younger woman.

Tossing her long hair over a shoulder, Jean sneered at him, "Oh, don't let me stop you Scott. Why don't you just go on having fun with your little friend. Come find me when you decide it's time to beg for mercy."

"That's right dear, go on inside. Scott and I will be in later. Please tell Charles not to wait up."

Jean flinched as if struck and continued to walk with determination back into the mansion. All along behind her she left a wake of muttered curse words and hexes towards the blonde witch. Slamming a door behind her, Jean quickly turned towards the kitchen.

Once there she yanked open the freezer, grabbed a gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream, chose the largest spoon she could from the drawer then plopped herself down into a chair and dug in.

"Friggin hussy...motherfu-"

"Hungry Jean?"

Turning towards the voice, Jean swallowed the lump of ice cream lodged in her mouth and started ranting to Kitty about the injustice of men in the world.

Kitty being Kitty simply nodded, grabbed a second spoon and started into the ice cream herself.

After a solid half an hour of listening to Jean gripe about Scott and his idiocy, Kitty laid her spoon down on the counter and looked at Jean. Her warm brown eyes were serious and still red rimmed from the tears she had shed the night before.

"Jean, I'm not saying that like you should breakup with Scott or anything. But maybe you should take a look at what's going on here."

Crunching on a particularly big chunk of chocolate, Jean looked at the younger girl quizzically, "What do you mean Kitty? I'm sitting here, you're sitting here, we're eating ice cream. And that bitch is still making moves on Scott; that's what's going on here."

Kitty rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated, "You know, for a smart person you're acting pretty frickin' dumb at the moment."

Jean just stared at her blankly, the light green mint ice cream slowly melting on her spoon.

"You know what? Like never mind." Standing up, Kitty dumped her spoon in the sink and left the kitchen.

"Kitty!"

"Jean?"

A scowl lit up the redhead's pretty face when it wasn't the petite brunette who walked in but her optically challenged boyfriend. "Where's your new friend Scott?"

She couldn't be sure, but the way he stopped walking towards her and cocked his head to the side was a sure sign that Scott was blinking at her in confusion. "Emma? She's just trying to fit in at the mansion Jean. Honestly, I'm disappointed in you, I would have thought that you would want to welcome her here."

Jean opened her mouth in fury, ready to throw a diatribe his way but in a typically oblivious fashion, Scott continued to barrel on, "Afterall, she is on our side in the debate tomorrow."

"Of course it doesn't hurt that she's gorgeous, rich and older. Isn't that right? You know what Scott, save it. Right now, I don't even know you."

Leaving the ice cream carton in the middle of the table, Jean studiously ignored her stunned beau as she quietly walked out of the kitchen finally understanding what Kitty meant. There was definitely more going on.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

At the moment, Rogue was truly wondering why she felt it had been better to leave Remy behind in Limbo. All she wanted to do was sit down, drop her head into her hands and whimper.

Instead of being dropped into some unrecognizable alternate world, where she could come face to face with someone who was the exact doppelganger of someone she knew, Rogue had no words to even name where she was. At this point, she was even contemplating clicking her heels to get back to the grey landscape she had come to know as somewhat normal. This was not normal, not by any stretch of the imagination, and Rogue's imagination had been working in overtime lately.

The world around her was filled with what appeared to be movie screens. She couldn't take a firm count of just how many, because they were slowly revolving around her, each one was almost as large as the IMAX she had seen once on a field trip into New York City.

Considering the amount of random traveling that Rogue had been subjected to recently, it wasn't so much the fact that she had now been shoved into an unnameable place, or that it was filled with movie theater screens that almost had her on her knees and crying for her maker.

It was the fact that the screens kept flickering back and forth between her own personal memories and the memories she could only assume came from all the people she had ever absorbed. Already she had seen the scenes that had already flitted through her thoughts earlier; Storm's, Jean's and X23's memories. But on the screen to her left and slowly making it's way around, she could see Bobby coming out to his family as a mutant. She could hear Toad being sucker punched time and time again simply for being disgusting.

She could hear the Professor telling her that there might never be a way to help her control her ability. She could see her mother, with a much younger Rogue, probably about five or six if the pigtails were any sort of age marker, sitting on her lap at night with a story book in front of them. The next scene showed that same woman, her adoptive mother, morphing into Mystique. Then she was drugging Rogue for Apocalypse.

She could finally feel. But she felt everything. The ache centered around her eyes as they squeezed out tear after tear. The heavy press of guilt, anger and fear that was searing on her heart and lungs making breathing a fight for every bit of air.

Up until now, being inside her head hadn't been like this. This was an overload of every assault of the senses that had Rogue spinning. Every time someone got hurt, whether it was a stabbing, electrocution or even a stubbed toe..she felt it. Every heartbreak; the number of times that Lance had cheated on Kitty, Kurt with Amanda and her family, Remy with every girl he had ever come in contact with. Every piece of their fear, their terror. All of their love. The pleasure every touch, every kiss had ever brought them.

She could see, feel the sensation of sex. It wasn't the first time for Rogue to have such sensations coursing through her. Her powers weren't so forgiving as to allow her the decency of respecting a person's private moments. But the onslaught of feeling every occurrence of every single person at once was torture; the amount of love, hatred, pleasure and pain that coursed through her body had Rogue arching her back and curling her toes in a silent plea for help. Help that was no where near coming to her rescue. She wanted to die.

Sobs ripped themselves from her chest but she couldn't hear them, could barely feel them as they wracked her body. She was too caught up in the whirl of living multiple lives and experiences to care about what was happening to her own self. She wanted Remy.

Just at the thought of him, suddenly the timber of the scenes floating around her changed to moments featuring Gambit. His adoption by Jean-Luc, his training with the Thieves Guild, falling in love for the first time with the Assassin's premier daughter Belladonna. The tears were still pouring down her pallid cheeks, but Rogue ignored them for this insight into the life of the man who had suddenly come to mean so much to her. Then they changed; no longer was the background around Remy filled with swamps, spanish moss, and the swirling ironwork of New Orleans, but with snow, the mansion and her.

Tears once more filled her eyes, but these weren't flavored with fear or anger, but with loss. She had wasted so much time fighting her attraction to him. Rogue had thought for the longest time that Remy had just been playing with her, toying with her emotions for fun; he was such a wonderfully handsome man, charming and charismatic that it never made sense for him to want the one woman in the mansion who could never do much for him.

But now she could clearly see, hear, feel and know for certain, Gambit cared for her. On all the screens before her, swirling and spinning as their apparent wont, she could see the pulsing frantic quality that he seemed to acquire after her injury. The crazed look in his dulled eyes as he ran around the town, first trying to find Mystique then Mastermind. The gentle way he had stroked her hair as carefully as he could so as to not touch her, they way he had defended her right to live. She saw everything in the days prior to his appearance beside her, up to his decision to sacrifice himself for her.

Every fight she'd had with him about how he had ended up stuck in this twisted realm with her finally came out, the realization that he was too embarrassed to tell her the truth. He came because he felt he had let her down. Rogue could practically taste his feelings towards her on the tip of her tongue, and it was sweeter than any ice cream she'd ever had.

Gathering what strength she had left, Rogue stood up and dashed the remnants of her tears from her face. Her fists were balled at her sides, the short, bitten nails digging fiercely into the flesh of her palms. She took a deep breath and pulled every feeling that threatened to overtake her further into herself.

"Fuck this." she said quietly. Then her voice picked up speed as she continued talking to the ether, "I want to go home. I want to go back to Remy. I want my head back and I want out of this freakin' Wonderland!" She was screaming by the end of her, her chest heaving in the effort. The screens around her slowed but they never stopped. Nothing else responded to her tantrum.

Practically growling with anger, Rogue walked over to one of the screens and reached out her hand to touch the very edge of it. The feeling was warm, as if she had stepped into a just drawn bath, it tingled throughout her body and her fingers vibrated. Playing on it was Jean's first date with Scott. A thrill of wonder flashed through Rogue momentarily at the realization that she no longer felt the buzz of jealousy at the sight of them together. Then she became entangled in the scene before her.

The tingling increased until Rogue felt like she going to vibrate completely apart. But it wasn't a painful feeling, more as if every nerve ending was turning numb at the continued sensation that pounded throughout every part of her. Then it was as if everything she was hearing from the other screens become background noise and what her ears most focused on was instead the screen she was touching.

She gasped at the change of sounds that began to assault her and was greeted with two shocked expressions on Jean and Scott's faces as they turned towards her. She inwardly winced at that since previously they had almost been in the midst of what she was sure would have been a rather passionate kiss; though to be honest she had seen enough of that in the past and was glad to have bypassed it here at close quarters.

"Rogue?" Jean asked tentatively, her hand still intertwined with Scott's own.

Rogue couldn't help what came out of her mouth next.

"What the fuck?"

Scott winced at the sugar sweetened curse word that poured from Rogue's lips as soon as it registered, "Do you have to say things like that Rogue? Honestly."

"Y'all can see me? Y'all can hear me? Hell!" She cried in surprise, "y'all know me?"

They glanced at each other then back at her, concern plain on their faces. "Are you ok Rogue?" Jean asked softly, her tone giving the impression that she was ready for Rogue to crack and start talking even more gibberish.

Scott looked equally nervous, "Should we call the Professor over?"

Rogue ignored their queries for the time being, choosing instead to simply walk over and grab Jean's shirt covered arm. She tugged on the cloth covered appendage, barely hearing Jean's surprised exclamation. "Holy hell," she breathed, "Scotty boy, ah'd get ready iffen I were you. Ah think ah'm about to go out lahke a light."

Scott barely had time to catch her before Rogue dropped to the cement.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Lounging on his back, Gambit stared at what he supposed was the sky, swirling with dimmed white clouds throughout the grey backdrop. He looked like he was relaxing; his legs crossed leisurely at the ankles and his hands behind his head. But if one were to look far more closely to see the lines framing his normally lush mouth they would have realized that this seemingly cool young man was really a boiling hotbed of anxiety and frustration. In fact the only reason that he was in this position in the first place was because he had discovered that sitting up as he joyfully planned Rogue's demise at his bare hands became a strain on his back.

He still could not get over the fact that she had gone off to God knows where without him. Did she trust him so little that she felt she could do more if she wasn't saddled with him? If only he was able to pick her brain; that thought left him chuckling grimly, after all where was he to begin with?

He sat up; of course. Her brain. The place of Rogue where she could never escape, or be free. Every part of her that could be was now centered in her head. That meant that no matter where she went...quickly, Remy stood up, cupped his hands around his mouth and started shouting into the empty landscape.

"Rogue! ROGUE! Can ya hear Remy chère?"

His voice never even echoed, he never figured it would have though. There was nothing for it to bounce off of in the first place. Silence was his reply, but the more Remy thought about it, the more it made sense. Rogue technically couldn't go anywhere. She was already physically in a coma, but if the Rogue he had just been making time with was any indication, she was mentally fine.

He could only hope that where ever she was now, her thoughts, the psyches and the personalities that went with them wouldn't allow for her to get hurt. He still didn't have a clear idea what might happen to her if she got injured within her own mindscape. And he got the feeling that he didn't want to find out.

Undaunted, he continued calling for Rogue every few minutes, if only to hear the sound of a voice uttered allowed, even though it was just his. It was something more than the voice that kept calling him several choice names in his own thoughts. If anything it kept him as a constant reminder in the back of her mind. Assuming that some part of her could hear him.

Tired of calling out for someone who wasn't going to answer him, Remy fell silent after ten minutes or so. Then he heard it.

It wasn't Rogue answering back to him, that was for sure, but it was something that he recognized and that definitely caught his attention.

Before where there was nothing but swirling fumes of grey, now if he squinted his eyes together tightly, Remy thought he could just make out a slim figure in the depths of the fog. As he continued to watch closely, it was still several minutes before he could mentally affirm that he wasn't going crazy and that yes, whatever or whoever it was, actually was growing larger. Which meant they were getting closer as well.

Cursing softly beneath his breath, Remy quickly began to scan around and shuffle his feet in case he ran into the barrier he and Rogue had literally (at least on Rogue's part) crashed into. In fact, he hoped to find it sooner than later; who knew if the bogey clocking in quickly was a friendly after all?

Frustrated with the lack of invisible barrier, Remy silently cursed every deity he could think up quickly. In the dim swirl of the fog, the figure which had been so distant not five minutes before was now much darker in definition. It was with an acute sense of relief and despair that Remy realized the body walking towards him was, first off, familiar and secondly not female. Which meant it wasn't Rogue.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Remy cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted into the ether, "Bonjour mon ami, to what does Remy owe de pleasure o' dis visit?"

The answering sound wasn't so much as verbal as it was a growl, but that was enough for Remy to confirm in his mind who had appeared before him.

When the smaller statured man appeared before him out of the mists, Remy bowed at the waist and smirked at the Canadian, "Monsieur Wolvie."

Logan tilted his head, "Cajun."

Even here, Remy found it fascinating that Wolverine was never without his ever present bit of stogie lodge in the deep corner of his mouth, like a barnacle on the hull of an ancient boat. Gambit had to admit though, as far as visitors went though, Logan was definitely the lesser of many evils that could have come popping up from no where.

Glaring at the younger man, Logan's eyes slitted till there was almost nothing left of the warm brown color to see, "Where's Rogue you little shit." His eyes darted from one side of the obvious camp to the other and every space in between.

Remy tsked loudly, "Now Wolvie, is dat any way t' talk t' Gambit?"

"Where is she."

He shrugged in reply, but his answer was sharp and filled with all the answer and frustration that had been coursing through him since he'd woken up that morning, "Gambit don' know Monsieur, Remy woke up dis mornin' and she was no where to be found."

Lifting his face into the air, Logan closed his eyes in apparent concentration, gently slipped the cigar into his hand and breathed deeply of the air. Remy watched him and smirked.

"What Cajun." the stockier X-man snapped, his eyes still firmly closed.

"Don' believe ya're gonna find anyt'ing by takin' a whiff dere."

"And why is that." Was the reply, a growl beginning deep in Logan's chest, though Remy ignored the warning.

" 'Cause dis is Limbo, dere ain't anyt'ing here ta smell."

A smirk graced Logan's strained and creased mouth, "That's what you think gator bait. There's a difference though between us."

Remy's answering sneer was so hard it looked etched on his otherwise handsome visage, "Et what's dat."

"By some weird quirk of fate, yeh're actually real." Opening his eyes, Logan appeared to abandon his hunt, for, Remy could only suppose, Rogue, and stared intensely at him, "I'm not. You can't smell anything 'cause yeh're not a psyche. I am. Now shut yer trap and let me work otherwise we'll never find her."

Wisely, Remy left Wolverine alone to his sniffing as he sat down to process this latest bit of information. So he had been wrong; this wasn't the Logan that he knew. The so called 'real' Logan, this was the Wolverine that Rogue had at some point absorbed. Knowing Rogue and Logan as he did, Remy could readily guess that it was when Logan was feeling particularly fatherly for the wayward, more than likely injured, female mutant. "Find anything yet?" Remy drawled lazily.

Logan bared his teeth at the Acadian.

"Remy'll take dat as a no den, oui?" he murmured, delighted to having pissed off even psyche Logan. After all, everyone needed a hobby.

Five minutes passed. "How 'bout now?"

"No."

Ten minutes; "Now?"

"Shove off Cajun."

Remy was feeling generous, so he waited an additional ten minutes before taking another poke at the man. "Are we dere yet?" he whined, his impression of a car sickened child sadly dead on.

Logan's head whipped around and shot a fury riddled glare at the grinning man child. Remy held up his hands, his face shining with innocence as his eyes twinkled with devilry. "Quoi? Can' blame a man fo' tryin' can ya? Call it incentive mon ami, de faster ya' figure out where Roguey is, the sooner ya get rid o' moi."

The psyche sniffed delicately at the idea, then he grinned at Remy, his sharpened teeth glinting oddly in the dimmed light. "Fine Cajun, I'll hold ya to that. 'S bad enough we already got one of ya in here, sure as hell don't need two." Then turning his head back around, Logan continued to sniff around to find Rogue's signature, or whatever it was he was looking for. Remy wasn't going to ask.

Gambit fell silent and wondered at the Logan shaped psyche. It walked, talked and acted like the crusty mutant he had come to know and filch alcohol from, but there was something slightly off.

"When did Rogue absorbed you." He quietly asked.

Watching closely, Remy noticed that Logan's shoulders tensed slightly. A split second of thinking had him wondering if maybe that was a personal question, like religion, politics and a person's sex life before over two hundred pounds of metal bound muscle was voluntarily hurled at him. In the back of his mind, he could appreciate that at least he didn't have all three claws brushing against his throat, but just the one.

"Why d'ya ask there Gambit?" Wolverine snarled, his expression dark.

With all the nonchalance he could muster, Remy shrugged his shoulders, careful not to jolt the blade against his neck, "Ya jus' look different den de Wolvie Remy knows back in de Mansion 's all."

The blade never moved. "Different how swamp trash."

Remy stared at him in disbelief, "Ya're seriously wantin' ta have dis conversation now mon ami? When Rogue is out dere doin' God knows what? Mon Dieu, Monsieur Loup Garou, Gambit t'ought dat maybe ya knew better den dat." Mourning the loss of his bo staff, Remy braced himself and shoved with all his might at the man. Though he couldn't feel the contact between them, that didn't stop Remy was feeling the force it require to even move Logan an inch. The man may have been a psyche, but he was as solid as Remy. Separating, the two men sat on opposite sides of the camp and fell quiet.

"She absorbed me after the rest of the psyches got the better of her. The last time things in here became an issue." Remy nodded, it was before he knew her. Before he knew anyone at the mansion.

It was a full fifteen minutes later before Logan raised his head, his nose wrinkled in frustration. "Quoi," Remy muttered tiredly, he was sick of this waiting, "Can' find her after all den?"

"Can it pretty boy, I found her." But the tone in which he said it had Remy's ears perked in worry.

"Where? Is she alright?"

Logan shrugged, pulling the cigar out of his mouth he released a stream of smoke then replaced it, "Don't know iffen she's fine, but I think I can get us there."

"There where." Gambit demanded, his voice growing soft as he quickly walked around the campsite destroying any signs they were there.

"Where the rest of the Psyches are brainiac, the Mansion."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

She stood outside of the Professor's office and breathed deeply, coaching herself. She could do this. She was an X-men, one of the leaders, she could totally do this. Unconsciously, she raised a slim hand and flicked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Tugging the hem of her pale blue button down shirt and wiping away the creases in her knee length khaki skirt, Jean stood upright, squared away her shoulders and knocked softly on the thick oak door.

Then she knocked again because the first time hadn't been loud enough.

She could hear the voices of Xavier, Ororo, Logan and Dr. McCoy in there, and could readily guess what they were discussing. She just wanted to be a part of it.

Ignoring the rules of polite society and ethics, Jean could allow herself to be dissuaded from her current mission by a close door. Closing her eyes, bringing the tips of her fingers to her temples and concentrating hard she decided to knock a little harder, only this time right on Charles Xavier's brain.

"Professor?"

An answering buzz into her thoughts told her that her entreaty had finally been noticed, "Yes Jean, please come in."

Another deep breath just to stabilizing her failing nerves and the tall redhead walked into the austere office. She fought the muscles in her face to keep from wincing at the sight of so many disappointed faces aimed towards her. Before she had been so preoccupied with dealing with Scott she hadn't been thinking clearly, but now she was willing to change that. And deliver a stinging blow to the backstabbing, boyfriend stealing blonde bitch to boot.

She nodded solemnly towards Beast and Storm, flicked her fingers towards Logan as a greeting but the bulk of her attention was fixated on the Professor. She smiled softly at the grandfatherly figure, "Professor."

He nodded, his clear blue eyes fixed on her face, "Hello there Jean. To what do we owe the surprise of your visit?"

Blinking back a sudden rush of tears that fought to destroy her temporary facade of calm, Jean quickly blurted out, "Emma!"

Charles frowned, "Ms. Frost?"

Logan sniggered off to the side, but Storm silenced him with a harsh glare.

Jean nodded, her bright green eyes wide, "Yes! Do you know that she has been undermining your authority? The children are a complete shambles and I don't know what to do with Scott anymore-"

"And that isn't because he's been making time with the Barbie?" Logan interrupted dryly. Jean shot him a glare, her former friendly attitude towards the older mutant now forgotten.

"Logan, behave." Was the quiet command from Storm.

Jean scowled and realized she would have to face the facts. "Ok fine, she's trying to steal Scott from me."

Charles gestured with his hands out to the side, "What would you want us to do about this?"

"Get rid of her!" She cried loudly.

A low cough from the corner interrupted. "Charles, she may have a point, though Ms. Grey's motives aren't altruistic. Do we really need Ms. Frost any longer?" Hank asked carefully.

"Does this mean that I can finally throw the bitch out on her surgically enhanced ass?" Logan muttered, glancing hopefully at Xavier.

"How would you know it's surgically enhanced?" Asked Storm, curiosity overcoming her better judgement.

He shrugged, "Could smell the silicone."

"No Logan." Charles allowed a small smile to break through his currently dour expression, "I'm sorry to say that I cannot allow that. She is still my guest here. And Jean, I apologize but there is nothing I can do."

Out of everyone in the office, the only two who didn't seem upset or furious over this news was the Professor and Storm. They were placidly calm in the wave of angry words from Logan and Jean, as well as the stream of reason from Beast. But Charles remained steadfast in his decision.

In a huff, Jean threw her hands up, "Fine! Let the boyfriend stealing bitch stay here."

"How magnanimous of you Jean." Storm replied dryly, "To allow a guest to stay in a home in which you too are, technically, a guest." Jean pointedly ignored the older woman.

Hank and the Professor exchanged looks full of meaning, "You know," Beast said to no one in particular, "She will be gone in a day or two depending on the outcome of the decision tomorrow."

Her glittering green eyes slitted skeptically, Jean's gazed lingered on the two men. She understood what they were saying; and truth be told, she had never been completely comfortable with Scott's need to play God. "I'm in then." Jean answered the unasked question.

Logan spoke for the four fully fledged X-Men, "Good on you kid."

Jean didn't answer, instead she nodded and turned on her heel, walking back through the office door and down the hall. Hank excused himself a minute later, saying that he really needed to get back down to the med bay.

Storm watched through the window the parade of rambunctious children cavorting on the lawn, as Jean and Beast left the room. "Was that necessary Charles?" she asked softly.

He nodded, "Yes," he replied, his voice equally soft, "I believe it was. She never would have left the matter alone otherwise."

"Chuck, do ya really think this is gonna work?"

Xavier shook his head, "Logan, I truly do not know. But we will make it work."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It wasn't the first time in recent days that Rogue had woken up only to find herself disoriented by her surroundings. But as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, they widened on their own accord at the sight which greeted her.

It wasn't some scene out of a science fiction novel, nor was it filled with the Munchkins and their ruby slippers. What shocked her was that she was in her room.

She was lying between her black sheets and dark green comforter. If she looked up at the ceiling, that was her punk rock poster. Her laptop, compliments of the Professor on her eighteenth birthday, was on her desk. A desk which was still delightfully littered with pieces of paper that had such inconsequential bits of information on them such as "Monday at three PM," and "Note to self: don't mess with dragons." Her bookshelf was still dotted with the occasional vampire book, Harry Potter novel and she knew that if she were to lift three strategic spines from their spots she would find her dirty little secret awaiting: a few choice romance novels that she refused to let Kitty see for her own safety and reputation.

As the feeling of astonishment crested over her, it was quickly replaced with the tingling sensation of panic. Why was she back in the Mansion? And did that mean that Remy was here too? What if he had been left behind all because she had tried to be noble and save him.

Flinging back the covers, Rogue slipped on her doc martens, which had been handily lingering next to her bed on the floor. A quick glance at the mirror showed her a sight she was almost relieved to see again, a dark green three quarter length sleeved shirt with silky white gloves covering the rest of it, dark washed flared jeans traveled down her legs and her face was smothered in its customary dose of makeup. Wincing at the extreme amount of war paint she had covered her face in, Rogue quickly scrubbed a majority of it away with some remover she had on her dresser. Remy never did like how much she wore.

Silently, she slipped from her room and tiptoed down the hall. She was in the Mansion, that was for sure; the dark oak paneling could never be mistaken for any other place, but how could she be sure that she was really home? For all she knew, this Mansion could have been filled to the brim with unfriendlys.

Never mind that it had been Jean and Scott she'd run into before. Could never be too careful after all.

Walking along the hallway, Rogue was careful to stick to the shadows when she could. Dodging from one doorway to another, she stopped occasionally to listen and make sure that no one was around. What struck her as odd, when she was walking along, was that she never heard a thing. It was as if the Mansion had been deserted.

Throwing her eyes quickly from side to side, she was satisfied that no one was around. Her stomach had been rumbling for the past few minutes and she was getting desperate to fill the ache. Sliding her body into a crouch, she smoothly moved to the stairs and prepared to walk down them when she stopped with a start.

Leaning over the landing, Rogue kept her body low to the ground as watched what was happening. There was Jean, and Scott and Kitty...but there were at least two or three of each. And they were all talking; well at least in the case of Kitty they were all talking, in the case of at least two of the Jean and Scott couples they were sitting on a bench in the hallway making out to the disgust of not a few of the people who walked by.

She blinked quickly, her eyes flying open and closed in shock at the sight before her. Multiples? Of everyone? Then an even bigger shock walked by. Or more appropriately, lumbered.

Marko Cain, aka Juggernaut. Charles Xavier's brother. Startled, it took every inch of her well earned will power for Rogue not to exclaim loudly at the appearance of one of the X-men's most hated enemies. Following Cain were two Kurts, one on each side of him, yapping like puppies at their master's heel. All three of them jabbered down the hallway, taking no notice of any of the other multiples of people around them.

Rogue rubbed her eyes and shut them tightly for a minute. Was she hallucinating? Or just going plumb mad by now?

"Rogue?"

A girly shriek erupted from her as she whirled around, startled almost out of her skin. There standing before her was Lance and Wanda. Or rather, Lance and two Wandas. Gasping loudly, and clutching her chest, Rogue glared at him sharply, "What the hell was that foh yah moron? Yah scared the shit outta meh."

He smirked at her and the pair of Wanda Maximoffs crossed their arms and rolled their eyes in a scarily synchronized movement, "Good, you're awake. The tightass and Jean wanted to know when you would rise from the dead."

Knowing when she was busted, Rogue strove for a semblance of cool as she stood up and gestured over the railing at the couples below, "Which pair sugah." she deadpanned.

All three of them sniggered and one of the Wandas piped up, "Does it matter?" The other one watched Rogue for her answer, her vivid blue eyes flinty in their lack of telltale expression.

Rogue ignored that question for the time being, she had the feeling it might be a trick. Instead she chose to answer the question with one of her own, "What's goin' on down there? Up here...everywhere! Why are there so many of you?" she flapped her wrist limply at the Wandas then gestured down on the ground floor where the parade of multiples continued to walk hither and thither.

Lance blinked at her, his expression one of confussion, "Huh?"

Wanda number two rolled her eyes again, "Dumbass," she muttered and smacked the Brotherhood boy upside the head, then she turned to Rogue, "What's going on, is that every single one of those people down there is someone you absorbed."

Rogue glanced downstairs again, "Ah don' see why there'd be so many o' them though..."

Wanda number one snorted, " Of course you don't, why would you. When was the last time you ever thought about us in here?"

"Wait, so ah'm still stuck in mah head?" Her tone was one of dismay.

Lance looked at her sympathetically, "Must have been a bitch to wake up and think you were back home huh." Then he brightened, "But hey, look at it this way. You're the only Rogue in here."

Both Wandas reached up and slapped him this time. And hard too, if his yowl of pain was any indication. Rogue gifted the two women a small smile of thanks. "Moron," they said in unison.

Wanda number one squinted at her and glanced around as if Rogue was hiding something, "Where's Gambit?" Her twin nodded, her eyes wide in anticipation.

"Yeah," she asked breathlessly, "We've been waiting to see him again."

Rogue eyed them closely,"Again?"

All three of them squirmed slightly. It was another voice that answered her question.

"Everything that has happened in your mind. Every episode prior to now, we've all seen and experienced it with you my dear." She turned completely around to find the Professor watching her with something akin to affection on his face.

A faint blush tinged her cheeks a soft pink, "Everythang?"

A benevolent smile was her answer, "Yes, but I promise no one in here will mention it to you without your permission. This is your mind after all." He spread his hands out in a gesture of goodwill, "Be the master of your domain Rogue." A crease of worry interrupted the smooth expanse of his forehead for a minute, "Though, to be frank, I was beginning to get worried. You were supposed to be here days ago." Beckoning her to follow him, Rogue left behind Lance and the two Wandas as they moved down the hallway.

"Why's that Professor?"

He kept silent as they continued along the corridor. As the minutes ticked away, Rogue could feel her anxiety multiply with every step until her nerves were buzzing with stress. She didn't dare ask him again for fear of getting an answer that she didn't want, choosing instead to wait until he told her of his own accord. Ignorance was supposed to be bliss apparently, though at the moment and from the knots she could feel forming in her neck, Rogue would have to argue for otherwise.

They were finally in his office and Rogue was experiencing a wicked feeling of deja vu before he answered the question. "Every time you went into an 'episode,' you went deeper into your coma. This is your last stop."

Feeling the tension zinging up and down her senses, Rogue's stomach plummeted at Xavier's words. "Wait," she held her hands up in a 'stop' motion, "So yah're saying that every tahme ah was thrown inta one of the lil 'scenes,' ah was being forced deeper and deeper inta this damn thang?" He nodded, his eyes sad. She took a deep breath and decided she'd come to grips with that bit of news later. In private. When she could destroy some Mansion property and blame it on someone else. "Then what didja mean by this was mah last stop Professor?"

His mouth opened and closed. Then repeated the movement again and again as Rogue waited patiently for an honest answer. "I don't know." he said at last, "just that every psyche here at the Mansion knows that this is the end."

Fear replaced the anxiety that shot through her at his words. The end? In what way? "So what do ah do?" she choked out. Homesickness had never seemed quite as bitter as it did now.

When she and Remy had been talking about staying with the circus, Rogue had readily agreed; but every part of her left something unsaid, it had been easy to agree that she would be happy to stay there...but only since some small part of her had supposed it would be easy to get home. She had never figured she would be stuck, with nothing but her own mind as her constant companion. Her mind and all the victims her powers had stripped of their very essence.

She wouldn't last very long, that much Rogue understood.

"So, if every tahme I went somewhere else ah fell deeper inta this coma of mahne," Her face tightened of its own accord, "What about Remy?"

Charles shook his head, "To be honest my dear, we don't have any idea why Mr. LeBeau was here in the first place. He is not a psyche, and arrived here of his own accord. There is no telling how his travels with you have affected him personally."

Bile rose in her throat at the idea that she may have inexplicably harmed Remy. Before everything, she may not have had such a problem with a little pain, but after all they had done together, shared with each other...the idea that he may be in trouble because of her was horrifying. "What can ah do." she whispered, her face frozen in a mask of tragedy.

He looked on her kindly, though she was thankful to notice that there was no pity in his gaze. "Whatever you feel you must Rogue."

"What," she shot back, her voice soaked in sarcasm, "No pearls o' wisdom from the great and all mighty Oz?"

His expression was placid and she crumbled before it, "Ah'm sorry. Ah jus' don' know what tah do." To her horror she could feel tears begin to prickle at the corners of her eyes. With herculean effort, Rogue stifled them before they could fall. But the tightness of her throat told her they weren't completely gone.

The Professor rolled from around his desk and gently took her gloved hand. "My dear, go, get something to eat and drink. Take some time to think things through. I'm sure they will become clear before too long."

"Ha," she snorted, "Rahgt."

"You never know."

Rogue looked at him for a minute, as if trying to divine just what the older man meant by that, but when she couldn't pick up any telltale signs on his features, she left the office.

"So what'd the boss man want anyway."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, "Why do yah wanna know anyways Mama?"

The tall lanky youth standing against the opposite wall from Xavier's office door smiled cheerfully and shook out his dark brown hair, "How'd you know baby girl?" His grin never budged as he transformed into she, but the tone of the smile swiftly altered from cheerful to maliciously gleeful as quickly as Mystique's distinctive skin tone blossomed.

Rogue smirked, " 'Cause it's inevitable, yah always hafta bug the hell outta meh; stalk meh, piss meh off. Gee Mystique, ah think yeh're getting a mite predictable there."

"Gator bait ditched you didn't he."

"No Mama." Mystique didn't look convinced, her bright pupil-less yellow eyes narrowing at her daughter's suddenly flushed face.

"I saw him kissing you."

"Mama, ah kissed him." A soft smile accompanied the memory.

Mystique sniffed angrily, "What I want to know is why you stopped him from killing Sinister."

Rogue's footsteps faltered for a split second as she walked back down the hallway, towards the kitchen. So Mystique saw that did she; Rogue refused to allow her adoptive mother the chance to belittle Gambit. "Because it would have changed him, and ah didn' want that."

"Pansy ass Cajun."

At those words, Rogue whipped around, slipping her glove off in the same motion. Gripping Mystique by the throat with her still covered hand, Rogue dared to pull the woman towards her. "Don' yah ever dare say that about Remy again. Yah hear meh?" Rogue knew that with a simple shift of her body Mystique could easily loose herself, but if what Xavier said was true and she was master of her mind, then it was time she took control. Involuntarily her fist squeezed lightly on her mother's throat.

The soft expression Mystique spared her daughter looked odd on the trained assassin and anarchist's face, but Rogue understood. In her own round about way, the woman only wanted what she believed was best for her only daughter. What Mystique had never quite understood was that what she wanted and what Rogue wanted were never going to meet, because there could never be a middle between them. "Understood Rogue."

The itching sensation to squeeze the life from the woman she had always known growing up as Raven Darkholme was almost irresistible. Then Rogue released her. She had long ago learned to resist the seemingly irresistible.

"How's Irene?" she asked nonchalantly, her strides once again carrying her towards the Mansion's industrial sized kitchen, their tiff all but forgotten.

Mystique shrugged, "Dear, you never absorbed her."

Rogue's throat tightened, she had forgotten. "O' course." she answered softly, "ah forgot." Never before had she ever wished she had absorbed someone in retrospect, but then again, never had Rogue imagined herself in quite this position. It would have been nice to see Irene once again.

"Mutter!" A dark bounding shape came bouncing along the hallway and launched itself at Mystique, who caught the mess of legs, arms and a tail before hugging it and smiling. He glanced at Rogue, a single fang gleaming out of the side of his mouth as he nodded at her.

Rogue awkwardly waved, "Hey Kurt." But she didn't stop. Didn't want to have a conversation with this Kurt; who knew which time it had been that she'd absorbed him, he could still imagine her the enemy, a friend or even his sister. After everything that had happened so far during the course of her stay at the Mansion in her mind, she couldn't afford to lose her cool at the sight of her family joined together. No matter how dysfunctional they would be. The rest of her trip downstairs was uneventful.

Down in the kitchen, Rogue glanced quickly left and right. She took in the heavy duty oven and stove, the stainless steel appliances, granite counter tops and the immaculately clean island. Then she saw the giant sub zero fridge and inwardly rejoiced, for some reason she was starving. And the kitchen was empty of any and all inhabitants.

An unexpected benefit of being back in the Mansion, no matter that it wasn't the 'real' one, was that she knew where everything was. So without very little trouble, Rogue soon had a massive turkey sandwich and a huge glass of ice cold milk ready to be eaten. Plopping herself at the table, she grabbed up her food and took a large bite, moaning involuntarily at the taste of food.

"So that's what it takes t' get such sounds t' come from dat mouth, eh?" a smooth, low voice drawled right behind her.

Dropping her sandwich on the plate, Rogue spun around in her chair and came face to face with Remy. He was leaning against the kitchen island, arms and ankles crossed and his eyes glittered with amusement at the sight of Rogue with her cheeks puffed out with food staring at him like he was a ghost.

With a huge amount of effort, Rogue swallowed the semi-chewed food and rasped at the apparition, "It can' be...they told meh that yah weren't here!"

Pushing away from the island, Remy winked at her and spun in a tight circle. "Been hittin' the bottle, Roguey?" he teased.

Ignoring her food, she stood up and warily moved towards the Remy-like figure. Staring into his amazingly similar eyes, Rogue reached out and touched his chest and was pleasantly surprised to find that he was solid feeling. She didn't know, since none of the psyches made a sound as they moved around whether or not they'd be solid to touch. Curious, she pushed on his chest harder. Then when he didn't budge, she tried to shove him.

"Ow! What ya be pushin' on Remy fo' ya naughty girl? Leave de kinky stuff fo' de boudoir, d'accord?" He groused, rubbing the sore spot.

Jumping back in shock, Rogue watched him warily, "Rems?"

His ears perked up, "New nickname? Gambit like dat one chère. Sure beats Swamp Trash, or Swamp Rat. T'ough, gotta admit, it be sexy when comin' from ya Roguey." He winked at her and gifted Rogue a toothy smile.

"Yah can' be here. Yah gotta be one o' the Psyches or somethin'." She shook her head sadly.

"Like we'd take him." A loud familiar snort came from the kitchen doorway, and as Rogue watched, Logan stalked into the room, made a beeline for the fridge and grabbed a beer. Tipping it back, Wolverine helped himself to a long pull. Smacking his lips together he sighed and then glared at Rogue, "And iffen yeh hadn't left the Cajun behind, yeh might have known that he doesn't belong in the Mansion."

Rogue nodded, her eyes now fixed firmly on Remy's own, "Yeah," she said softly, "The Professor said somthin' lahke that. Jus' thought ah was- oh Remy!" She threw herself at him, her tears almost inaudible in his chest, "Ah'm so so sorry sugah, if ah'd have known ah never would have left yah behind lahke that!"

Remy shot Logan a pointed look, and with an ill-muffled grumble the older man left the kitchen. But not before shooting Remy his own look of warning. Choosing to ignore Logan for the time being, Remy decided instead to pay attention to the sobbing girl in his arms. He wrapped them firmly around Rogue and clutched her to his chest, fighting his own truckload of tears as they fought to join hers. He didn't know what to do with a tearful Rogue, so he ran his hands down her smooth, silky hair and murmured soft nothings to her in an attempt to soothe.

"Shh...Roguey, it's fine. Calm down chère, Remy be here maintenant." He rested his cheek against the crown of her head and breathed in deeply her own personal smell. A gentle chuckle vibrated his chest, "Fille, what de devil were you t'inkin', goin' off like dat wi'out Remy? Somethin' coulda happened t' ya and den where would we be hein?" He clutched her more tightly to himself and murmured into her hair so softly that she almost imagined she had only heard things, "Where would Remy be wi'out ya ma fille? He needs ya."

Wiping her eyes, Rogue smiled tremulously at Remy. "Ah missed yah too sugah, ah was so worried." Throwing caution to the wind, and since her dignity had already left after her dramatic exclamation, Rogue lifted herself onto her toes, tilted her head up and met Remy's lips squarely with her own.

His muffled moan met her breathy gasp. Remy's arms tightened around her, pulling her flush against his body, giving every impression of never letting her go. Which was good because Rogue had thrown her own limbs around his neck as her mouth moved sensually against his own.

If Rogue had thought their first kiss was enough to last her, she was glad she had never actually formed that particular inkling completely. She would have been wrong, oh so completely wrong but incredibly happy to be so. Kissing Remy was like nothing she could ever describe; it was hot, cold, smooth lines and firm lips. Shivers throughout her spine, the sensation of burning in her own body. Then the sounds; she had never expected such noises to come from her. Nor such sounds from him. Every time he groaned, or murmured softly into her neck Rogue could feel herself melting further and further into his embrace.

Sucking in great buckets of air, Rogue pulled back and stared at him wildly, "Remy," her voice was warm and breathless, "Ah, ah'm so so-"

His fingers halted the path were words were on, "Remy don' t'ink so mon coeur. No apologizin' after a kiss like dat." he whistled low and sent her a panty dropping smile, "T'ough, if ya do wan' t' continue apologizin', Remy can t'ink of several ways..."

She laughed loudly and shook her head, the straightened strands of her auburn locks fluttering with the movement, "Not now, though maybe lateh sugah." she winked at him and bit her bottom lip unconsciously, still slightly shy and unused to such activities.

Remy groaned, "Chère, do Remy a favor s'il vous plaït, and don' do dat again unless ya wan' t' spend de rest o' de night in ya're room."

Rogue smirked and quickly stripping her hands of their gloves, tossing them behind her, ran her fingers through his reddish brown hair, relishing the silky texture. "Remy," she began thoughtfully, and not without a little hesitation, "Don' yah think it's strange that ah don' seem tah drain yah." She bit her lip; since their journey to Germany, the fact that they could touch skin to skin had been weighing on her, but she had been afraid to broach the subject. What if once she'd acknowledged it, this miraculous gift had simply disappeared?

Moving until he was sitting at Rogue's spot at the kitchen table and with her in his lap, Remy leaned his forehead against her temple, "Sure Roguey, Remy's t'ought so time and again since dis fiasco started."

"What?" she exclaimed, wrenching her hands free from his hair to his frustration if his pout was any indication, and facing him, "But yah never said a damn thang!"

He grinned at her unabashed, "Dat's cause Remy ain' about ta look a gift horse in de mouth. Or stop dose kisses o' yourn." He quickly pressed a quick one against the corner of her mouth in a preemptive assuagement of her temper.

Slightly mollified, Rogue settled further into his embrace, but refused to let go of the topic, "But yah're not curious?"

"Surely curious, mais oui, but Roguey, considerin' everyt'ing dat's been goin' on, why don' we just take it for what it is and be happy dat here we can jus' be Remy and his belle?" Remy whispered it softly into her ear, the hot breathe affecting Rogue more than she was going to admit. The boy didn't need more fuel on the fire that was for sure, he was already dangerous enough as it was if the Wandas reaction were any sort of indication.

But she nodded. Whatever happiness she could get would be well worth the questions it would inevitably dredge up. With a small grin, Rogue leaned back and nipped at his ear then laved it with her tongue, dancing inside as she listened to his muttered oaths against her and her "hottiness". She pulled back and smirked at him, her breathing uneven at their proximity.

His own breathing heavy, he squinted at her, his eyes darkened with something she was beginning to recognize as unadulterated danger, "Fille, ya're in trouble ya hear?"

Pertly, Rogue stuck her tongue out and hopped off his lap. Moving to another chair, Rogue tugged her sandwich towards her and started shoveling it into her mouth and chugging milk. Remy looked at her askance, "Tu as faim?"

Rogue continued chewing as she looked at him, the question plain on her face.

"Ya're hungry den?" he clarified, chuckling at the chipmunked look currently adorning his chère's face. She simply stuck her tongue out at him again.

One of the Kurts came walking in at that point, and stopped in the doorway at the sight of the two of them. "Vhat ist going on here?"

Remy shot Rogue a droll glance before turning towards Nightcrawler, "Ya're sister decided to channel one o' de Chipmunks, Remy's jus' tryin' t' decide iffen it's Alvin, Simon, but he's leanin' more towards Theodore. Always did have a t'ing for the cute chubby ones." he tease, winking at Rogue.

Rogue was instead gesturing towards him wildly trying to catch his attention before he could say something. Something like he just had; kicking his chair hard, Rogue glared at him and threatening him with various finger gestures, her cheeks still comically puffed out with a few rather large bites of her sandwich. Remy just looked at her like she was insane; Kurt on the other hand appeared startled.

"Schwester?" He asked, the words ending up garbled. His eyes were bugged in excitement and confusion.

Choking down the too big bite, Rogue hissed angrily at Remy. He just looked at her and shrugged innocently; and she knew it wasn't his fault, she didn't think he'd come against the multiples this Mansion had to offer yet. Straightening her face out, Rogue turned towards Kurt and smiled as gently as she knew how.

"Kurt, where's Mama? And the other Kurt?" Remy shot her a confused look but she just grinned. Kurt's exuberant grin died a little at her question and his expression became as of someone who had been put out slightly. Rogue sighed inwardly knowing that hers was not the first question one should hear after learning you have siblings.

He shrugged, "Swimming and Mutter is off in ze Danger Room vith Logan. Ze're are some...frustrations." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down and giggled. Rogue and Remy gagged.

Wiping his mouth on Rogue's napkin, Remy turned to Kurt, "Other Kurt? What, one not enough any more?"

Rogue couldn't have asked for better timing than that, because just then Lance came walking in with not only the Wandas but three Pietros, two Blobs and a Toad. The expression on Remy's face was well worth the mess her makeup became as tears of laughter coursed down her face. Scrubbing what little makeup she had left on, she turned back towards her food. And then changed her mind. Abandoning her sandwich as soon as she noticed both Freds were eyeing it hungrily, Rogue moved back onto Remy's lap since the kitchen had become slightly cramped.

Sitting on Remy's lap, his arms wrapped tightly around her; partially out of shock, she knew and partially just to hold her (she hoped), Rogue was justified for her trade of places when one of the Wandas began to twirl a lock of hair around a finger and eye Remy with a look Rogue could only justify as akin to a lion stalking a gazelle.

She shot her a glacial glare and turned her attention back to her spooked beau. "Remy, sugah, it kinda happens lahke this." The story took a lot less time to tell than it had to learn, but she was justified to see that Remy took everything in stride.

"So..." he gestured at the crowd around them and one eyebrow rose into his hairline.

Rogue nodded and shrugged sheepishly, "Sorry hun, looks like mah powers are more prolific than we knew."

He blew a breath out in mock exhaustion and nuzzled the side of her neck, "Dat's ok belle," he breathed on her, "Explains de trips."

"Trips? What trips?" Toad asked loudly. Rogue grimaced at the sight of him, Toad's eyes were following a rather loud fly and with a sudden movement, his tongue shot out and snared the insect within its sticky confines. "We goin' on a trip, yo?"

She chose to block out the entourage and focus on Remy instead, "Whatcha mean sugah?"

He slid his hand into her own and pushing her off of his lap, he tugged her out of the kitchen and back up the stairs. "Remy wants t' go some place where we won' be listened in on Roguey." he called over his shoulder as he made his way past all of the rooms on the second floor.

Stopping suddenly, Remy gingerly pushed open a door. He stuck his head in and Rogue saw a light glow around his body and then they were inside the room. She was surprised to see that they were in the library.

He walked her over to a pair of cushy chairs, bathed in a soft light from the able lamp between them. He gestured for her to sit and Rogue settled on the chair, shooting Remy a quick confused look for his secretive actions.

"Remy sugah, what's goin' on?"

Reaching over, Gambit gently took Rogue's hand in his and brought it to his lips, barely ghosting a kiss over her knuckles. Her smile in return was involuntary and warm.

He sighed, and shook his head, "Sorry chère, Remy didn' wan' all o' de psyches t' know everyt'ing." Rogue was heartily confused and told him so.

"Aw Roguey don' it make sense?"

She slowly shook her head, her eyes still focused on him and her eyebrows furrowed.

Remy blew a heavy breath out and raised his eyes to the heavens. "Remy sees it kinda like dis. Ya got lots o' people in ya're head, oui?"

"Yeah."

As he was talking, Remy stood up and walked around the library, his hands flying in various gestures as he spoke, tying to get his thoughts together. He was confused enough as it was, no need to tangle Rogue up as well. "Well, den dey came from de people outside."

Rogue rolled her eyes, "No shit sherlock. Even ah coulda told yah that...or hell, any of the folks out there coulda done the same."

"No..no," his hair flung from side to side, and his gaze seemed to beg her to understand, "Roguey, belle, what've ya always told Remy about ya powers?"

"That they're a pain in mah ass?"

"Besides dat."

"That if ah could, I'd switch with anyone in a heartbeat?"

He growled at her, "Non! Ya told Remy dat every time ya touched a person, den ya got dere thoughts and memories. Even dere powers fo' a shor' time."

Rogue's breath caught in her throat and she coughed. "Ya'll mean that every place we've been tah was because of them?" She rasped n anger.

"Oui."

"Indeed Rogue, but we thought you already knew that."

Startled, both Remy and Rogue instantly went into their primary fighting positions, but seeing that it was only the Professor interrupting them, they immediately fell back.

Flush with embarrassment at almost attacking her mentor, Rogue bit her lip and slid a glance towards Remy. Then a second one as she couldn't recognize the expression on his already normally impassive face.

"Professor, ya mean ya knew but didn' tell de fille?" She was surprised to hear anger in Remy's normally smooth voice.

"Honestly Mr. LeBeau, we never imagined that Rogue hadn't a single clue as to why she was jumping from place to place. Everyone in here thought that she was controlling her movement."

A cry of hysteria was quickly muted by Rogue, but then she began to laugh loudly. "Yah seriously thought that ah was making mahself go from nightmare to nightmare?"

To her satisfaction, Xavier at least looked a little sheepish. Still laughing, Rogue began to calm down when Remy came up behind her and place his hands on her shoulders, rubbing his fingers soothingly along her arms. "I suppose it could have required further examination at the time."

"Further examination?" She exclaimed, furious, "What the fuck Charles, Remy and ah were stuck in Las Vegas battling Mr. Sinister, we almost died foh Gawd's sake!"

Xavier opened his mouth to deliever a rebuttal, but Remy jumped in. "Uh yeah, Remy was kinda wonderin' about dat as well." He kissed the top of Rogue's head and glared at the Professor, "Ma belle has never seen Monsieur Sinistre, how de hell did he manage to worm his way inta here o' all places?"

Remy had to admit, Xavier's answering expression did nothing to make him feel better; in fact it made him feel like the scum found at the bottom of a sink trap.

"Well Mr. LeBeau, I rather think that instead of asking myself that, you should ask yourself." Uncharacteristically, the Professor smirked coldly, "Afterall, no one else here has quite had the same experience with Mr. Essex like you."

Remy blanched an icy white beneath his natural tan. Herself shaken, Rogue still reached out and tightly wound her fingers with his desperately trying to pour all the affection and understanding she could into his chilled hands. "How....?" Gambit asked, his voice catching roughly.

Xavier rolled slowly over to them and motioned for Rogue and Remy to take their seats. Once seated, he rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed, "You'd imagine that in here we wouldn't get tired, but that's untrue. Especially as of late. Things are definitely changing." He graced the two younger mutants with a kindly smile, "I am sorry for before, but everyone thought you already understood."

Remy made a rolling motion with his hand, "Get on wit' it already old man." Rogue hissed at him, but he ignored her.

The Professor raised a placating hand up, "No need to get upset Mr. LeBeau."

"And why no'?" Remy sneered.

"Because you're not supposed to be here at all. It's not supposed to be possible."

An inarticulate cry wrenched itself from Rogue and she fought to tear her hand back from Remy's grip, "Ah knew it!"

He swiftly gathered to him, gripping her flailing limbs tightly to his body and tilted her fury filled face towards him, "Rogue, listen ta Remy. He said 'not supposed ta be possible,' dis is Remy, he swears it." Wiping away the beginnings of tears, Remy gently kissed her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks and finally her mouth as she trembled against him.

Sniffling, Rogue laid her head against his shoulder and clung to his body, "Ah know, ah'm so sorry Rems...this is just all too much for meh."

Gently he hushed her and kissing her softly one last time, he turned back to the Professor, "So what happened hein? Remy just lucky like dat?"

"Something like that."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The room was empty of people, save for the two on the medical beds. But she knew they wouldn't tell a soul. Smoothly, she made her way across the sterile environment to the longer of the two figures. Roping a stool over to the side of the bed, she sat down gingerly and settled herself in for a long night.

She was a woman on a mission, and hell be damned if she didn't succeed. Resting her palms open beside his head, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be taken over.

It was different than she'd imagined, being inside Gambit's head. It had taken her a bit longer than would have thought, but it was just chalked up to being tired; it was in the wee hours of the morning after all.

Moving quickly through the boring, office like landscape, she came to the "receptionist." "I want to talk to Remy."

The bubbly, petite Asian American teenager popped a giant pink bubble at her, "No one's allowed to see the Great and Powerful Remy," she quipped, ignoring her guest in favor of an outdated magazine.

"I don't give a rat's ass, let me in."

The nurse outfit looked slightly out of place on Jubilee's slight frame, but that didn't mean the authority in her eyes belonged anywhere else. "Listen brainless, I just said-"

She rolled her eyes and huffed, "Don't make me tell Bobby that you were sifting through his porn collection again."

"I have no idea what you mean," the teenage girl said, lifting her chin up delicately, "Who is this Bobby?"

She squinted her eyes and looking down was satisfied, "Hey, I've got these on...wanna let me in now?" She pointed down at her feet, a pair of brilliant ruby slippers sparkling in the dull light.

"Well," Jubliee chuckled and slapped her cellulose free thigh, "Now that's a horse of a different color." She laid down her magazine and bowed, waving the intruder through the door to the other side.

Rolling her eyes, she mumbled under her breath as she passed through the doors, cursing Remy's twisted sense of humor that the pass code into his brain was from the Wizard of Oz of all places.

Past the pure white swinging doors, any order that had been in Remy's "waiting room," vanished. For a split second, the idea of sticking around was intolerable, and she started backwards before realizing that there was no going back. Not until she'd gotten hold of it at least.

It was a technicolor spray; as if the skittles rainbow had exploded within the Cajun's very mind. Translucent figures wandered, skipped, ran and otherwise moved to and fro across the otherwise empty space. They blended and blurred together until she could barely tell what was going on and which emotion was talking to which.

Walking up to one, she thrust her hand out and catch it by the shoulder and was shocked to find that her hand passed straight through the azure colored body. Peering a bit more closely, she could see that she recognized the figure. It was Scott. But his shoulders were bowed and his head ducked low; his hair was tousled, but not, as she could readily admit, in a sexy manner, but something more reminiscent of a bum.

"Scott?"

The blurry figure hummed slightly and raising its head, blinked at her sleepily, "Hm?"

"Where's Remy?" She had no time for pleasantries, and to be honest she didn't want them.

He yawned until his jaw popped loudly, sounding for all the world like a muffled gunshot, "Dunno, hasn't been around in a while."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

He blinked again and raising a hand, scratched his hair just behind his ear, "Dunno...coupla weeks maybe?"

She sighed, already frustrated with him, "Who talked to him last?"

"She's over there," He pointed into a vague direction then dropped his hand as if there wasn't any feasible way he could have held it up any longer.

More than a little disgusted, she moved onward. Walking straight through some blurred, multicolored figures and scooting around others. When she saw one sitting alone, she knew exactly she'd found the right emote.

She was petite and delicately boned, her cheekbones high, her lips pouty and her eyes large. Her colored was even more washed out than the others, and her outer edges seemed to flicker dully. "Rogue?"

In answer, the figure of Rogue raised her head. She could tell that sometime before, her coloring had been that of a deep, dark red. Almost blood red. Now she was faded, almost more grey than red.

"Where's Remy?" was the repeated question.

The answer was different. "Gone."

"Gone?" she asked quickly, sensing a lead, "Gone where?"

"To her." The dulled figure of Rogue smiled slightly as if only she held the secret.

Looking skeptically at the dissipated figure before her, she had one other question, "Who-I mean, what are you?"

The Rogue like figure shook her head, "It's a secret."

"Who's?"

"Theirs of course." Then she fell silent, her words completely dried up and she knew that was nothing more to get from the Rogue shaped emote.

Pulling herself back, she blinked and sneezed in the stillness of the med bay then chuckled to herself. After all, the truth shall set you free.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You guys know the drill...read and review. I like the way this is going so far, but every time i sit down to my computer it always changes, so give me an opinion.

I've already apologized for the lateness of the update, but since I also gave an explanation I'll just go one step further and say...I think this chapter was well worth the extra time it took to write.

Thank you all, and I love that everyone seems to like my story so much!


End file.
